


Dog Days Are Over

by beastlybolt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Dog Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Reader Insert, Slow Burn, Smoking, Voyeurism, ignorant Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlybolt/pseuds/beastlybolt
Summary: "What the hell?!" You yelped as you shoved your blanky forward as if it were to scare him off. His hurt expression sure did look like you scared him off, but despite his six-foot-something height, and somewhat lean body, he still had the face expressions of a teddy bear. Same beautiful eyes as Dean. Same freckled long nose. It's almost as if he is the human version of your dog."I-I-I thought you loved me," His eyes prickled and shined with tears that were waiting to be shed as his voice broke at the last word of his sentence. "am I not good enough for you anymore?"The one where Dean is your dog but then suddenly isn't.Dog Dean series inspired by s9e5 "Dog Dean Afternoon"





	1. The Mysterious Case of the Missing Dog and Appearing Man

**Author's Note:**

> Short series I plan to finish quick, I must admit this is really fun to write. I started writing this about a year ago but never posted it anywhere. 
> 
> Reader has breasts and is referred to with feminine pronouns, and this is just plot but then the next one might have sexy stuff. So tune in if you wanna read about Dean being cutesy and puppy like.

Leaf green eyes. Freckled long nose. Dirty blonde fur. These are the exact same features you woke up to every morning. He's your bestest friend who licked tears off your pink cheeks when you cried. Stubby arms and paws wrapped around your torso, snuggling into you every night whenever you felt lonely. He could read you better than any human could. He even cleaned up your mess off the floor every time you spilt chips off the counter. Dean.

You'd known Dean's mother, Mary, since you were in highschool. Mary belonged to a close neighbor of yours, Ellen. Ten minute walks were worth visiting Mary, and when you found out the yellow lab got pregnant, there wasn't a doubt in your mind you were adopting one of them. 

"It's a boy," Ellen told you with a smile. She gave you your new and currently whimpering puppy and you took him with open arms and a smile so wide your cheeks hurt. "What are you gonna name 'em, sweetie?" 

You pursed your lips and looked off to the sky, pondering what name would fit. How about... Dean. James Dean. No, no, just Dean. "Dean! His name is Dean." You decided.

Four years later, Dean is still by your side. A big grown boy. Same green doe eyes, same long freckled nose and dirty blonde fur. But what you never expected was seeing those features in human form. In your bed. Right in front of your face, just like Dean does every morning, licking your face and neck and shoulders while wimpering "Owner, owner, owner!" in a somewhat masculine high-pitched voice. 

A soft hum vibrates out of your throat as the flame continues licking you. You have no idea what kind of dream you're having, or what feels so good, but after a couple of minutes and a little "Steve! Stop it," and a giggle, you finally peeled an eye open curiously to see a man.

"What the hell?!" You yelped as you shoved your blanky forward as if it were to scare him off. His hurt expression sure did look like you scared him off, but despite his six-foot-something height, and somewhat lean body, he still had the face expressions of a teddy bear. Same beautiful eyes as Dean. Same freckled long nose. It's almost as if he is the human version of your dog.

"I-I-I thought you loved me," His eyes prickled and shined with tears that were waiting to be shed as his voice broke at the last word of his sentence. "am I not good enough for you anymore?"

Okay, what the hell. If things were already weird, they just got weirder. He headbutted your upper arm and wrapped his entire body, all of his limbs snaked around your waist and had a firm grip too. To say you were confused and uncomftorble was a slight, no, HUGE understatement. Especially when five seconds after his meltdown, his tears withdrawled and he sprang up off the bed on two feet, a huge (and, well, beautiful) smile spread across his cheeks and asked if he could go outside and when breakfast was going to be served. "Can I go pee? I need to go outside. I really really have to go. Oh! and when are we making breakfast? I'm starved!" And with all the suddeness of this man, this man breaking into your home, asking you if he can go to the fucking bathroom outside, acting like a dog, you screamed in horror. Who is he?

 

You took a deep breath as you hit the 'Call' button on the contact you thought would be the only person who'd understand. The man was still in your house, just feet away from you sitting on a chair eating chicken wings you'd heated up for him after you showed him your bathroom. He looked confused when you did, which led to a brief teaching lesson on what a bathroom is and its used for.

"So..... Why did you bring me here?" 

"You said you needed to go pee." You gave him a look.

"Aww, man. You're gonna give me a bath, aren't you? Dang it." His last words were more to himself than to you and he hung his head low with his arms crossed to his chest. 

"Okay, I don't know who you are, or why you're in my house, or why you look at me weird when I tell you use the bathroom in the toilet like a normal human being," your voice was raising almost uncontrollably, your mother coming out in you. "but you're lucky I'm letting you stay since you claim you have no where else to go and you've lived here all your damn life!"

The stranger looked down shamefully at the tile flooring and then marched over to the toilet that was sitting in the far right corner of your bathroom and dropped his pants and underwear down in one shove, squatted down and didn't even wait for you to leave the room for him to start pissing in the toilet. You shut your eyes instinctively with the palms of your hands then slammed the door shut behind you.

"Weirdo didn't even wait for me to leave," you mumbled to yourself with a shake of your head as you paced to the kitchen for breakfast. This must've been the weirdest morning you've had in your 22 years.

"Hello?" The voice you've been dying to here for the past two unanswered calls greeted. A sigh of nothing but relief left your chapped lips.

"Hey, Cam, oh thank God you answered. I need your help. And you. Here. My place, now." Eyes traveled to the Zack Morris sitting in your kitchen, digging in and not holding back, he met your eyes and gave you a cheeky smile while a mouthful of food was still being chewed. With a little wave of the hand that wasn't holding your cell to your ear and a forced smile, you turned away so he couldn't hear what you were going to talk about. 

"Whatever it is, it can wait. I'm at work. You know that."

"I know, I know. Hear me out, please, I can't babysit this Abercrombie model on my own!" Your voice was a loud whisper now, you couldn't take any of this. You needed Cameron.

"Ooo, model, you say? Describe for me."

Lump bottled up in your throat now swallowed, you eyed him up and down once or twice and took a few strides to the left to observe his body, and god damn, he really belonged in magazines. Not in your house. He still was sitting there, making a big mess of himself, so big you actually gave him a fucking BIB so he wouldn't ruin his clothes. Plump pinkish-reddish lips were now covered in sauce, and his mouth was not closed while he chewed. How did he eat like this and still look cute? 

"He's uh, tall."

"I'm on my way."

 

You picked up your toothbrush and your mint toothpaste and flicked the cap off with a thwack, squeezing just the right amount of gooey paste on the tip of your brush, wet it from the tap of the sink, and started thinking.  
The man claims to be called Dean, just like your Dean, dog Dean. He did have the same beautiful eyes. And hair, except not all over his body, but on his head. Same appetite. But it couldn't be. 

It wasn't possible. 

Your Dean, the dog, of course, was in the toy room in his kennel for throwing up on the floor that took you longer to clean up than you'd admit. You thought about getting him outta there and feeding him something that wouldn't make him so sick. 

You spit the leftovers of toothpaste out into the sink, ran the water and watched it down as well as gargaling, when you heard the door to your bathroom creek open. Oh, God, no. This is where you draw the line.  
Stealthly, your hands flew to your towel that was drying your hair for you and took it out to cover your exposed skin.  
Sure enough, there was 'Dean' standing in the doorway when you turned around if the coast was clear, but clear as day, you knew he'd seen you.

"Dean. What do you think you're doing." It came out more like a statement than a question.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Owner. I just wanted to apologize for how I've been acting lately. I mean, for puking up that bacon you'd made for me, for getting in the trash. I'm acting like a puppy. I know it's unacceptable."  
Hearing this made you scoff while you finished wrapping the towel securely around your body and flipped your semi-damp hair to the side. 

"Puppy?" 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I know I just turned 4, and that's not how a 4 year old should act. I'll be a big boy. A good boy." Dean's facial expressions turned from shameful to proud when he got to the last part. Playing along until Cameron gets here shouldn't be the end of the world.

You chuckled. "Uh, okay Dean. You're gonna be a good boy for me?"  
He nodded quite enthusiastically. What the hell were you doing.

"Alright. Good, G-good boy, Dean. Very good." Your hand awkwardly patted his head and oddly enough, Dean really fucking enjoyed it. He leaned into your palm with a heavenly smile while his eyes fluttered gently closed. 

"I'm just gonna, uh," Pointing over to the doorway and began heading out, you felt large controlled hands stop you by your stomach, and soon enough, kisses were being planted on your upper back and shoulders, and two hands were on your stomach, slowly trailing up and oh my god you were not going to be felt up by a man who claims to be your dog.

"Okay, okay, OKAY," Shoving him away slightly, you stepped out of his reach and walked backwards, facing his confused profile and practically moonwalked out of there before he could do anything else.

 

When three knocks come to your door, Dean starts acting up. And of course, the dog boy thinks it's funny to start yelling.  
"Hey! You! You! UGH." Dean yells over and over, looking through the peephole of the front door to find your best friend. "Oh, hey! Cameron! Owner, Owner! It's our friend!" He exclaimed before he got shoved out of the doorway by your arm to open and let Cam in.  
After a night of Cameron teaching Dean human things like oragami, cooking, and even asking Dean trick questions that are about you, and Dean answering without hesitation or thought. Maybe that's all the convincing it took for you to guess he's either a stalker or maybe....

He's telling the truth.

"I know that your favorite color is green. Like my eyes. Oh! And when you were in bed with that guy and that girl, the guy asked you to call him..... Your father? Which doesn't make any sense but it was something like tha-"

"OKAY! Dean, enough!" You interrupted, rubbing your temples with your fingers.

Dean tensed and his face fell. "Well, I just- I just want you to believe me, Owner, I want us to be together again. I want you to love me again. It's been so long since we've cuddled, and you held me. I want you again. Please believe me." He whispered the last sentence, and you noticed he had gotten so close you wondered if Cameron had yet to teach him personal space. His head dropped to your shoulder, and he sniffed and kissed you like a dog.

"Dean," you test, licking your lips and gently lifting his head off your shoulder. 

"Yes, Owner?"

"I need you to stop calling me that." You smile.

"Okay, Owner. Anything you want." You roll your eyes. Dammit Dean.

"You need a shower." You comment, smelling his sweaty wet-dog self.

"All by myself?" Dean's cartoon eyes widen. He visibly tenses on his hold on you, and you tighten your lips together to keep from laughing at how panicked Dean got just from something as simple as a shower.

"I'm, I'm use to you bathing me, but - but I can't do it by myself. You have to help me. Please?" Real puppy dog eyes were staring right into you, just begging and begging. You sighed, and grumbled something along the lines of "take off your clothes" and grabbed a towel from the closet. A cheeky looking Dean then grinned, satisfied with his doggy-charm of getting you to stay with him.


	2. Bathing and Snuggling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm making the reader bi because reasons.

"This is so much fun," Dean grins, shoving his pants down with no shame as he waits for you in the tub. God, you don't think you'll get used to having this tool in your house. At least he's a hot tool, your brain offers. Although when he smells one whiff of your coconut shampoo and tries eating it, you think maybe you've changed your mind and can handle bathing him after all. He's pretty fucking weird, as a human, but he's your Dean after all, and whether you like it or not this is probably how it's going to be until he magically changes back just like he magically changed in the first place, you must do your research. And take care of him. Unfortunately. 

When you pull the knob of the shower towards you out spurts the running water, and Dean is running out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell. Of course, he's a dog, he won't like baths. Shit, this is gonna be harder than you thought, making a six foot male listen to you.

"Dean!" You call, letting the water stay on so the tub can fill up. Just knowing on instinct where he might be, where your dog always goes when he's scared, you check your bedroom in the corner of the room where all Dean's toys are and - yup. there he is.

"I don't wanna," he murmurs, attempting to stick one of the wooden bones in his mouth but spitting it out. His lip quivers and he tosses his arms around to make you stay away.

You're in way over your head looking after this four year old trapped in a twenty one year old's body.

"That's it. That is IT! Get in the bathroom right now or I am not going to take this anymore!" With a scream, he finally obeys, shamefully getting back up on his feet and making way towards your bathroom once again. You hear him mumble something, but when you ask him what he said he throws his hands up and says it's nothing with attitude.

Turning around to grab the shampoo and conditioner then stop the water, deciding it's a good height for a man as tall as he is, you doubletakes seeing Dean ass naked and sniffing your used towel that hangs on the towel rack.

"Uh- um, Dean-"

"I forgot how good you smell," he smiles, nuzzling his head into the towel and rolling around in it.

"J-Jesus Christ," you whimper, closing your eyes and trying to get ahold of yourself.

Fucking toned muscle prick, with his stupid broad shoulders and perky nipples, slightly flushed chest and no - you don't even wanna bother looking below the belt.

"Owner?"

"Call me Y/N." you snap, angry at yourself for almost falling for this, angry at him for exsisting and being so damn hot for a dog. Come on, he's a dog! Why does he look sexier than any human guy or girl you've ever even been with or looked at?

"I'm sorry Own- Y/N, are you still gonna give me a bath?" He asks, innocently cupping his package with his hands in an attempt to cover himself. 

How could you even say no to that? You're not cold hearted. He really needs to be clean if he's staying with you in human form, and that's all the thinking you're going to do before nodding yes.

Lathering him with soap, all up and down his torso and hair and back, he has such good skin, and oh God it makes you wonder if you'll ever look at him the same if he turns back. How will you cuddle with him at night knowing you're spooning with a sex god who fucking begs you to bathe him even when he knows what he does to you with his puppy dog eyes.  
He asks you to tell him stories, stories about you visiting his mom before he was born, and you tell him all about the walks you'd take every day just to see Mary. How Ellen would make you a cup of coffee and ask how school went, how you'd had a boyfriend back in the day during highschool whom you thought would be your forever. Trying not to think hard on the way Dean's body tenses under your grasp when you mention the other man you were with, you try decide against going into detail about it and just talk about his mom and siblings.

"You had a brother, Sammy, he went to a great owner. Jessica down the street from my place has 'em. He's really happy and goofy just like you, Dean," you tell him, gaining comfort once again enough to run your fingers through his hair and just lightly pet him, scratching his scalp and earning moan after groan from the mut. 

"Did I have a sister?" He asks out of the blue, breaking the silence as he keeps leaning into your touch with his entire body.

"Don't think so," you cup your hands together to form a bowl and dunk them in the water, then quickly rinsing Dean of the white suds that scatter across his skin. "You had another brother, though, Adam. He was sort of different from you and Sam, not as identicle, but I'm not sure who adopted him. I'm just lucky I picked you," you add, only realizing seconds afterwards how you should really not have said that out loud. Dean thinks otherwise, and turns around to smile bashfully, and you'd think if he had a tail it would be wagging. 

"I'm lucky I got such a cute Owner," he admits so quitely after some time has gone by of you just admiring the view of the beautiful man and his exposed skin. 

"It's Y/N," you remind him once again with a wink. 

"Y/N. Right." He nods, looking back down at his hands, feeling the soft human skin there instead of furry paws.

"I think it's time for bed." You note, making him stand up as you rush to get a towel. Not feeding into the temptation this time.

After drying himself off, not needing too much of a helping hand for that one, he fidgets and lingers in your room once he has his pajamas on.

"Would you like to sleep in h-"

"Yes. Please, yes." He answers before you even finish, already jumping to make himself comfortable on the foot of your bed as he does.

You shake your head, laughing to yourself as he cuddles up right to your feet, and nuzzles his chin right into the blankets as you open your book up to read. 

Dean is snoring in minutes, kicking and tossing and turning at the foot of your bed. Without thinking, you wake him up with light touches to his back and soft "Dean, Dean wake up," he abruptly stands up and asks if there's trouble. After assuring him that no, everyone is safe, in between laughs you beckon him closer, to the side next to you on the bed. He raises his eyebrows but accepts your invitation reguardless, obviously surprised at the level of intimacy you have had with him since he wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with him if he were human like you. Dean then snuggles under the blankets with you, then hesitantly wraps an arm around you and rests his chin atop your shoulder as you turn off the night light and close your book with your bookmark in your spot.

You don't even blink, feeling natural as ever having him be close to you like this, you really missed having another body weight and warmth near you after your dog turned. As you listen to his heavy snores right in your ear, you think this actually could be something you'll get used to. Eventually. Once you get over the whole 'my dog is a secret model' thing.

 

Dreaming of Dean kissing you everywhere like he did when you got out of the shower, on your neck and shoulders and even your chest, you feel embarrassed when Dean is right on top of you as you gain consciousness. You nearly scream just like the first night, feeling him wake you up as normal, but no, it's most certainly not normal. He's not a person. He is not supposed to make you feel this way, being the dog he really is. Kissing you everywhere, making your heart beat right out of your chest as he jumps up and down, making the bed rock slightly.

"G'morning, Y/N! I had a dream about you last night. And bacon too. But mostly you, and your gorgeous hair," he caresses your hair through his fingertips as he crawls closer and kisses your jaw, and oh God you don't want that to feel good, but it does.

You should feel ashamed. This is considered beastiality, right? Gross. You feel gross.

 

Dog Dean had always thought about being human. Always, every single day wondered what it was like to have normal people problems and things like paying bills, having a bad hair day or.... having sex. Yeah, he wondered if maybe his owner, you, would try that sometime in the years you two have lived together. I mean, walking in on you naked, seeing you masturbate at night with him in the same bed for Christ sake. It made the dog wonder. How come you never stripped down, touched yourself or moaned for him? 

It was always a guy. Sometimes a girl, too. You've had girlfriends throughout the years too, had sex with them, fell in love with them. It was still unfair though. The want, the lust, the pure NEED for you, he couldn't take it anymore. While you were at work he opened the door with little to no struggle after practicing how to whenever you weren't home, and went to a shop downtown that had crystal balls and glowing lights surrounding it. She was old, her skin leathery, but her eyes said she still knows everything that goes around, she wasn't old and ignorant like most. 

After telling the empath what he wanted, to be human and for you to fall in love with him, she said she'd only give him one option. Not two.

He cried by himself that night, sleeping on the couch rather than your room. Dean's plan didn't work. He'll never get you to fall in love with him romantically. It'll just be stupid, and platonic, yes Dean feels so lucky to have you as an owner, but God, he feels like he deserves more. Night after night, being there for you after every heartbreak, licking the tears off your face and cleaning up after you if you spilt something on the floor by licking it up. It's just so much but not enough all at the goddamn same time. Fuck.

But Dean didn't give up. He thinks it could happen if he's charming enough as a person. Maybe he'll be unattractive, but it will be Dean, and she loves Dean, so she has to love him in any form. Returning once again, she granted him the wish of becoming human. Didn't say how long he'll stay that way, but Dean would stay human forever if it meant he gets to be with you, have you in his arms and heart. He's become quite the romantic, but you just bring it out in him. 

To further his plan he then pretended to act up by getting in the trash, puking up a dinner you made special for the dog, but it was for a good cause. Waking you up as a human, getting to kiss and touch you with hands (real hands, not stupid useless paws) and you scared away, he felt utterly dejected. Soon after when he prompted you to give him a bath and he saw just what his human form did to you, Dean couldn't help but be smug. It will work. Dean could get you, sweep you off your feet in no time.


	3. No Time Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is a little nsfw so read in a safe place. I wasn't expecting this to be popular so I'm shy writing smut but I'll try. Thanks for kudos/comments!

Shopping with Dean seemed like an awful, *awful* idea, but it had to be done. With his transformation of becoming human, you have no clothes that could possibly fit him besides a few big flannels. But that isn't lasting him long, and he sure as shit isn't walking around without a shirt on. You agree to taking baby steps, still getting used to him looking the way he does. Dean understood, but still feels a little bummed none the less. He had nodded with reluctance, staring at the floor and refusing to meet your eyes as you confessed your discomfort around him these days. It hurt him, you could see it did, in fact, the same facial expressions had been on a not-human face every time you caught him getting in to trouble and reprimanding him for it. Shame. Getting his hopes up. All of it had been right there.

The look was fishy, weird enough to make you stare at him until he snapped out of it then gave you a tight smile and returned to his dog bed to chew on his softer toys, knowing from experience that the bones he used to play with as a dog would just ruin his new teeth. You want him to get out of his doggy-habits; such as chewing things, digging items up, burying said items, waking you up with licks everywhere. But it also keeps you reminded of how he is not human, and you will not take advantage of him just because of his new look. It's unfair to him, and it's just manipulative, and wrong and you won't do it. 

After a week of being sexually frustrated, not getting a minute to yourself taking care of the man that when he falls asleep on the couch watching a movie (he started crying when you put on Marley & Me, so you had to change it to Spongebob) in the living room, you mentally high fived yourself. Finally. You can take care of the ache. After multiple attempts of masturbating in the shower Dean had gotten all too comfortable coming in anytime and practicing brushing his teeth by himself. It had been a close one, but you played it off and just continued washing your body with the soap bar.

You closed your door after creeping away to your room when all the lights were turned off in the house. You were giddy for getting an opportunity. Thinking of all the times you'd taken care of yourself with the few toys you'd purchased, you inwardly cringe at the memory of Dean being right there in the bed with you. His eyes would just wander as you went to town, moaning and running your hands all over your sensitive areas. 

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Owner."

Jesus Christ. Panic sounds about right to do at the moment. 

He has seen you. All of you. Having sex with all your past partners, going solo, all of it. He's seen so much, gotten to know you so well over the not months, not a single year, but years. Plural. You've changed a lot, gone through phases (you don't even want to think of all the experimenting you had done in highschool with Dean being right there) but it's just..... humiliating. It's all too humiliating, having given the power to a man of knowing all of you, inside, and most certainly out. 

That's it. The last straw. You're going to set bounderies for Dean tomorrow, letting him know what's yours and what's his, or when is the appropriate time to come to you for this. It has to be done in order to keep your privacy, and Hell, he hasn't let you take care of yourself by busting in your door every night. It pisses you off. Control, that's what you need. Yeah. Let him know who's boss. 

After your short-lived panic attack and plan, you are going to relieve yourself tonight. Dean isn't going to get in the way, he's sleeping. If he wakes up, the world is really trying to get at you personally at this point.

Taking your time to get yourself wet enough, you run your hands over your lips and breasts, squeezing gently and pinching your nipples, getting the right arousal feel right back into your core, the feeling almost floating away right when your panic attack struck. But luckily it's back, and you can't wait. Lying on your back, you spread your legs openly, invitingly to- to no one.

Dean.

No, this isn't for him. You will NOT be thinking of him right now. You already have to think of him all day, think of caring for him. He doesn't deserve to be in your fantasy too. 

Snapping yourself out of it, your fingers then find their way to your panties and gently rub yourself through them first. Pressure on your clit perfectly, teasing the tips of your fingers on your opening, yeah, it feels so good. Briefly, this is where you were at in the shower days earlier before Dean had sauntered in casually looking for some toothpaste. But you get to go further tonight. 

Panties ready to be taken off, you run them down your legs but keep them at your ankles. You're bare against the sheets, completely naked with your shirt off to the side and panties more than halfway down, and although the room is at perfect temperature, you shiver as your own hands creep back over your body, both getting to work under and over the belt. Soon you're wet enough to feel it spill on your fingers, just turning you on more. Your hands are speeding up a bit, one on your breast kneading and pinching while the other on your pussy, working your fingers a little bit in and just messaging there. The pressure of your palm feels extravigant on your sensitive clit. After speeding up, going deeper, and even letting a couple moans get out of your agape mouth, that's when you hear it. 

A knock.

Shit.

"Owner, uh Y/N are you alright in there? I heard noises. I think someone is in your room-"

"Fine, Dean. Doing just fine." You try hiding the squeak and slight dissapointment with a cough, but Dean knows you. He knows it probably isn't real.

"Are you sure? Can I come in?" 

"I think I'd know if someone were in my room, thank you very fucking much," you sneer, the moment completely ruined. You stomp around as you get yourself decent once again and let Dean in. As soon as the door opens a crack he barges in all the way and wraps your shorter figure in his arms.

"I was worried," he whispered, but it didn't sound like he was talking directly to you. 

"Yeah," you say, not exactly knowing how to reply. It was sweet of Dean to worry, but maybe if he did it under different circumstances you'd feel more grateful. His arms remain secured, snug around your neck as he brings his lips to the top of your head. 

"It feels awesome being taller than you for once," Dean chuckles, looking down at you and letting go of his tight hold. You roll your eyes, playfully shaking your head and look down. 

"Looking up to my dog, literally," you laugh at the humor of it all. How many people get to be in the situation you're in? Their best friend getting turned human? Laughing about it shouldn't be the end of the world. 

"Y/N, I wanna say I'm really sorry for bugging you so much lately. I just um, I miss you. So much. Really much. I can't live without you but I just know that you could go without me." He wipes his eyes (tears? oh god you hope not) and turns away. 

You try beckoning him back by running your hands up and down his back. "Come on now, that isn't fair." 

"It's true. Of course it is! This was just a mistake. I'm sorry for looking like this, I'll just- I'll just turn ba-ack." He stutters, the deep voice dropping on the last word and you hear a light sob follow.

"Dean," you soothe him with your touch, running your hands through his hair and his back. He falls right into your grasp and you hear his cries that sound no different from when he was a dog. High pitch whimpering muffled by your shirt. "You're still new to this. I've been doing it for twenty two years, being human. But you've been, well y'know, for about a week and a half. I know it's overwhelming, and I'm not helping much either getting angry at you," you admit, trying not to let the lack of proximity between the two of you bother you. You were on the brink of coming just five minutes ago, so still feeling touchy is pretty normal. 

He cries in your shoulder for another fifteen or so minutes while you both lay down on your bed. His whimpers finally subsided, and you hear him trying to catch his breath and wipe all his snot on his sweatpants. Without thinking you hand him a tissue and he looks at it with bewilderment. 

"Tissue. 'S called a tissue, and it's for your nose. Utilize it," you smile, gesturing to his pink nose. He nods and takes it gratefully, struggling enough with the thin piece of paper for you to take it back from him and hold it up to his face, then proceed to instruct him to blow. He succeeds getting all the stuffiness out, and then drops his head once you've crumpled the used paper up. 

Dean adjusts himself by placing his head in your lap, holding onto one leg and breathing slowing down, getting deeper. He finally fell asleep. Not expecting a response, you say goodnight and turn off the lamp without letting him off of your lap. 

The next day, you tread lightly on telling him rules of privacy. It seems a little useless, knowing Dean. And he just confessed he feels you don't need him anymore. So, you're left with a heartbroken man living with you, not knowing his place and thinking he's unwanted. You're not sure if pitying him will do comfort or wrong, so you just empathize saying you've felt useless as a person too. 

When you bring him shopping, there are lots of odd looks and probing eyes following Dean and you. His behavior of a four year old but his appearance as a twenty one year old man really throws lots of people off. You try to tell him to ignore them, his insecurities spiking and feeling shameful wanting toy after toy, treat after treat. But he just shakes his head and says he doesn't need anything anyway. You hide everything he wants at the bottom of the cart and note to send him off to the car when you pay for these so he doesn't see you bought them. You buy him more flannels, they're simple and comfortable and he doesn't seem to mind. He went to the children's toys isle and tried asking you for one of the play swords but you already said no. 

After you buy the necessities, such as bread and milk and eggs, you let him wander but not too far on his own, but what you didn't expect was to find him in the magazine isle. Reading Busty Asian Beauties. 

You see the smirk on his face as he looks over all the pictures of what you guess is naked women. 

"Whatcha lookin' at?" You ask innocently, coming up behind him and all but scaring the shit out of the man. He jumps, drops the magazine half on purpose half on accident landing on the floor and turns to you, scratching his hair. 

"Oh, that? I don't know. Just saw it laying around," he shrugs, taking one last look at the naked women then pushing the cart towards the check out and leaving you behind. 

You chuckle and follow after him. "I've got it, Dean, you can head back to the car." 

"Owner, are you sure-"

"Y/N, remember? And yeah, I got it. Head on back now," you shoe him away, and with a roll of his eyes he admits defeat and heads back. 

The cashier looks at you then Dean as he walks away through the automatic opening doors with an amused look on his face. Soon he comes back to try it again, stepping through the door that opens for him. He does it again and again, looking happier each time and smile getting wider. 

"The boyfriend?" The older man asks with a grin as he bags your items.

You pinch your eyebrows together. Oh. So that's what this looks like. "Uh, sure," you answer, embarrassed. Once you see he look on the older man's face, the look of not judgement, but sincerity, you feel more comfortable. "Yeah, he's a child at heart." You laugh.

"Looks like it. Good luck to you both, you're great together," he winks, handing you your card back after scanning it. You thank him and stroll with the cart back to your car with Dean right next to you since Dean hadn't made it to the vehicle yet because of his fascination with the automatic door.

"Lets go home, Dean," you say as your arm finds its own way around his waist and his around your neck.

 

Things had been going good. No crying, no feeling of being left out. You and Dean had gotten used to eachother being equals now. It wasn't long before he wanted to try things more human, his curiosity burning through his perception of things. You felt like he was your son and you were watching him go through puberty, going through short lived phases and being curious about things. It was a matter of time before he found out about things like touching himself, porn, feelings. The first time you walked in on him trying it out was in the shower with the clear transparent shower glass showing everything. His hands crept lower and lower, his eyes closed and head thrown back, cupping his balls with one hand and the other lathering his dick up and down with soap used as lubricant to make it more slippery. You could see he was enjoying himself, and he didn't have control like a normal person to hold his sounds of excitement in. You then quietely shut the door behind you, mouth agape and it knowing what the fuck to feel. You felt yourself getting wet, seeing him like that, but fuck you thought you were over this. He's your dog. Hes trying human stuff out. You have nothing to do with it. There are only so many rooms in the house that have locks and that are being occupied, and it's just you and Dean, so it's bound that when one of you want to have some fun by yourself chances are you're gonna get caught. 

But it never stopped. Since that day, in the shower walking in on him with Dean not knowing. He hasn't stopped masturbating any chance he got. And when you say any, you mean absolutely any five minutes he had by himself he'd shove his hand down his pants. You're not sure if he's come yet, or if just feeling himself down there feels good. Either way, it adds fuel to the fire of your burning lust, the need for a touch. You hadn't been with somebody in how long, and certainly you haven't been by yourself either. It's bait that you're not sure you're willing to take. When you'd come home from work, he'd be in the bathroom without the fan on to cover his noises and his loud screeching wouldn't halt even when you made it obvious you were home. 

Doing his laundry was disgusting to say the fucking least, thank you very much. Come stains everywhere, from his jeans to his underwear (obviously) and to even his shirts. He doesn't seem to give a fuck where his semen lands, and he does so as he pleases. 

It's frustrating using all your detergent on him, when he had no shame and didn't even blink an eye handing you all his clothes you bought for him having either a tiny spot or a trail of come, even to a huge blob looking like it was gonna ruin the material. It's something that should be talked about, but you're not sure when and you're not sure how. So you result in suffering in silence.

"Really, Dean! Come on dude, this can't be an everyday thing," you snap one day after he comes down with yet another pile of clothes covered in sticky white goo. 

"What?" He asks innocently, not a single ounce of anything that screams 'hi I masturbate every day, sometimes even multiple times and ruin my clothes for my owner to wash.' 

"I get it! You masturbate! Just do it in places that don't require clothes, man! Its great, I get it, but I've been doing laundry every two days because of you!" You raise your voice, and you do think this is funny, you do, but only if it weren't happening to you. 

His ears and cheeks are beat red. "I-I didn't-"

"It's okay, Dean, we all do it," you chuckle, exhausted. "Just try and be subtle, maybe? A little?" 

"Owner, I don't know what you're talking about," he denies further.

"Please," you laugh. "seriously. It's fine. Just do it in the shower. I don't care if you take three showers a day at it, I just don't wanna waste all this softener and detergent." 

"O-okay. Sorry, Y/N." he mutters, going straight to your/his room and closing the door, no doubt gonna be doing exactly what you told him not to sometime in the next 45 minutes. 

With a sigh you try to think about something not sexy. Your grandfather. Salad. Okay, better.

 

At dinner when he finally comes out of your and his room, he strides out almost tripping on the furniture on his way to the dinner table, smiley and giddy. With a certain glow, almost as if he'd.... just had an awesome orgasm. As you predicted. 

His eyes are half-lidded, and it's either that or he just took a bong rip. You're guessing the ladder. 

"How are you? You look awfully happy," you muse, putting his plate of food down onto the placemat right in front of him.

"Fantastic," he answers, licking his lips hungrily then getting ready to dive right in.

"Not so fast, you're gonna wash your hands Mister." You scold, handing him a towel to dry his hands when he's done.

He complies, squirting a handful of soap in each hand and runs them under water. He has a fascination with good smelling soap, you guess, and on multiple occasions has tried eating it but luckily you were there to stop him all three times. 

You eat dinner with him telling you all about his favorite Spongebob episodes and that his favorite character is Patrick, and that he wants a pet snail just like Gary too. You smile and nod, listening. You're lucky to have such an animated dog.

"We should eat somewhere fancy. Dress up in monkey suits. Wouldn't that be fun?!" He raises his voice, making you tell him to shush and calm down.

"Yeah, sure. Think I might have a suit laying around," you say, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

"How about this weekend! It could be a- could be a date. We could do it every weekend, if you want." He proposes, shrugging and offering a hand to take care of your dish. He'd taught himself to do the dishes so you weren't worked up doing everything else around the house. 

You smile in amusement as he jumps when the fossit turns on. "Sure, I'd love to Dean." 

"Awesome." He smirks down to himself. He puts the dishes away with a happy feeling resting in his belly, not only from the food but the feeling of having something to look forward to. 

He thinks of you in a pretty outfit, red lipstick and hair curled all fancy-like and has to stop himself from losing it right there. He'll just have to see it for himself on your date this weekend.


	4. Not A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah my birthday is the 15th of March so if I don't post that day it's because I'm celebrating. But! Here's some angst. Finally what you've all been waiting for.

Dean kicked open the door and stomped out the entrance of the fancy establishment with a huff. He didn't realize how hard he was squeezing his hands into a tight fist 'til he let them go and saw the color of his hands change. Thankfully he has change in the pocket of the suit you bought especially for him, fuck he can't think about you right now. He needs to get away. Now. Dean whistled a cab over to him and the bright yellow vehicle came to halt on the curb for him. Dean dropped the pile of change on to the dashboard in the front seat and got in, buckling his seatbelt and crossing his arms while muttering in the process. 

"Rough night, pal?" The cab driver asks, taking just one look at Dean's disheveled, annoyed figure. The cab driver has a shaved head and a cigarette behind his ear, excusing the faint smell of smoke in the car.

He chuckled darkly. "You could say that."

"Nice suit. What's with the get up? Not to probe, man, just get curious. See plenty kinds 'a people with this job." 

That peaks Dean's interest a bit. Is he normal? Does he pass as a human? Do people know he's a dumb mut that can't seem to do anything right?

"What kind am I?" 

The man glances to his right in Dean's direction, looking him up and down briefly and thinks. "You look like a guy that just went through some shit." He finds himself chuckling, but when the other man doesn't join in he stops, feeling rude. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Just told the girl I love, that I um, love her. She told me I'm just a dog. Nothing more," his voice breaks at the end and he takes a moment to adjust himself again to talk. "I'm not good enough for her anymore."

The man's face had twisted into confusion at the word of 'dog' but he kept talking to Dean reguardless. 

"Uh, that's some shit, man," he notes, lighting a cigarette with a match from his pocket at a red light. "You want a hit?" 

Dean looks at the flaming stick with temptation. He'd seen you smoke it before, seen you cough with it clouding your throats whenever you lit the small stick every other time you were stressed. Good a time as ever to try something else human so that he could rub it in your face that he is too good enough, man enough. 

He takes it, inhales through the end like he's observed others do, and feels the overwhelming need of water and air right after. A fit of coughs comes. Dean regrets trying it without you helping him.

"You get used to it," the man pats Dean's back to get the string of coughs out of him. "Did you say where you wanna go? Any addresses in mind?" he asks.

Home. He wants to go home and be with you. But fuck that, he deserves better. Someone who accepts him for his somewhat childish behavior, and can tolerate (no, more than tolerate) his actions. Dean thinks of the one place you used to take him before this big mess he created of being a person started.

"Park. Go to the park on West 5th Street," he directs. 

The strangers drive in comfortable silence all the way to Dean's destination.

 

You didn't mean to say it out loud. You swear you didn't. And the look on his face when it slipped right out, it made you feel bile rise to your throat immedietely seeing the dissapointment fill his eyes, the realization of what you truly think of him. But you don't. You think the absolute world of him. But he can't know what you'd do to hold him again, to kiss and be with him. So you fucked up. On accident or on purpose, you're really unsure.

"Dean, um, I'm not sure how things will work that way." You worry, tightening your hold on the fork in your hand. Your appetite is gone now. 

He holds onto the hope, confident that if he just explains his proposition better you'll understand and say yes.

"It's simple, Y/N. We'd be a 'we', and I could give you affection and I know you like me, and I for sure like you so-" you stopped him in his tracks. You were panicking, saying bullshit at this point and just doing anything you can to tell him to go away.

"That just isn't normal, Dean. People don't go out with their dogs." You shake your head, closing your eyes. 

Dean puts his chest out, ready to defend himself. "I'm not a dog anymore! I'm a person, like-like you, and we can be together. It's normal, when people that have chemistry like we do-"

"We don't have chemistry, Dean! Jesus, stop talking like you're gonna marry me or something. I'm gonna marry a *person* someday, not my pet-thing. Christ, do you even know how uncomfortable it is having your dog come on to you like you are now?" Your anger level is rising, and you know half the shit you're spitting out isn't true, isn't true at all. You love Dean, love him so much that you won't let him ban himself from the world and all the experiences by being with his owner whom he's lived with his whole life. 

"Go out and explore the world while you can. It shouldn't be spent with me. You've had enough time here. We're not compatible being equals," you tell him, putting your hand on top of his on the table. His eyes had left you long ago to a whole new world of his own, probably thinking of how stupid he is or how much he hates himself for trying. But he shouldn't have tried. Just a lost puppy. 

"I-I thought you loved me," he rips his hand away from yours like you're contaminated. "We were supposed to end up together!" he looks at you with disgust. You then think back to the first day you met Dean, human Dean in your bed. The horror in his eyes when he saw the terror in yours just looking at him. The same words 'I thought you loved me' haunt you.

"Lower your voice!" You whisper/yell, commanding him to sit back down.

"No! No I'm not yours anymore, you got that? I'm 'free to explore' all I want. I don't have to follow your orders." He gets up, but you stop him once again and grab his hand, practically ripping him from the door. 

"Why! Why am I not good enough for you no matter what form I am?"

You close your eyes, remember telling him that the truth hurts. *But this isn't the truth*. "You're just a dog, Dean. You're nothing but a dog." 

Dean nods in false understanding, tears brimming his eyes and already falling down his cheeks, gets up and leaves.

You nearly cringe at all the people watching; their wandering eyes go from the man stomping to the door right back to you. You try smiling, but it's not use.

You've embarrassed and lied to yourself too much already.

 

The date was going so well, Dean thought. It was only a matter of time before he screwed it up by being tired of acting patient. 

"You look beautiful, Owner."

"And you look awfully handsome as well, Dean."

God, it was perfect at the start. Your lingering touches and looks. Those were the signs, right? He had researched everything; how to tell if the girl you like likes you too, how to break the news that you wanna try getting together. 

He supposes that was for people, not barely-human barely-mut *things* like Dean is.

It was almost silly how inferior he feels for trying. He told jokes, made you throw your head back and laugh, sometime he didn't even know what you were giggling at but Dean supposes he had done something too weird but you liked it.

Stupid stupid stupid. Jacking off to get your attention, great fucking plan, mut. Christ, he feels like he lost ten pounds masturbating that much. Moaning and groaning, none of it worked on you. Hell, just straight up asking you wasn't enough. He's just been a bother the whole time. 

Dean just wants attention. Yours, specifically. 

He sighs, taking another awful hit of the cigarette the cab man gave him as he dangles his feet on the swing. He's been trying not to bark at all the dogs that had passed his way, trying to act human and all. Hell, he isn't man enough for you. Not anything. 

He sits on the swing, lightly going back and forth in the air before he feels like he's gonna barf and cough and cry some more, loosening the tight collar of his suit and unbuttoning a few buttons. There, much better. 

Your words echo an endless repetition in his brain.

You're just a dog, Dean. Nothing more.

Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is being hit on by your own damn pet?

Jesus, he's bawling like a baby on a swing. His tears run down his neck, tickling him slightly as well as dampening the undid collar. The air out is chilly, but Dean doesn't care. He wants to stay out here all night. Fuck, he's done that before hasn't he? Escaped from Y/N's yard when he was let out to go potty and he ran right out when he saw strangers cross the street. He remembers exploring and finding this place, and staying here all night. You found him in the morning, sobbing and talking how much you missed him and how he was being a bad boy. You pet him and cuddled him for days straight saying how grateful you are to have him back and how sorry you were for letting him stay outside for that long. He was cold, hungry. But you took care of him like you always did. Jesus, he misses that. Misses just being happy as a dog. Pet. That's all she sees you as anyways, forever and ever, a voice tells him. 

 

You need to find him. Shit! Where could he have gone? If he's not home, where is he?

Someone could be taking advantage of him right now. Hell, they could be drugging him or raping him or-

Fuck. You need to find him before it's too late. Before he finds another person just like you told him to. You did tell him to, but here you go once again, coming right back like you always will. 

"Dean?" You call out, walking around the neighborhood with a flashlight in hand, shining in every direction that has some kind of sign that there was a heartbroken, six foot man there. 

You'd ditched the dress and purse and heels, going home with tears brimming your eyes but refusing to let them fall. Why should you get to cry anyways? You're the one that's breaking his heart. He changed this way, became a completely different thing just for you. And you kicked him down.

Your sweats and a big jacket will have to do. Your boots strapped on, you begin hunting for Dean. Maybe hunting is the wrong term.

"Deeeean!" You call out once again, feeling sick to your stomach. "Dean, please! Come back to me!" your voice is nearly leaving you, as well as daylight. Jesus, tonight could've been so much different. Gone differently. He held the door open for you everytime, wether it be the car door or entry to the restaurant. Like a gentlemen. And asked you how things are, expecting an honest answer and when you said you were benign you gave him an explanation and he listened to it, every word. Even felt his foot trail up your legs a few times, but you brushed it off. You stupidly ignored all of it, the signs. 

Losing hope, you go to the one place that's left. He probably caught a plane to New York City by now, with his level of knowledge and ability to lure people in with his eyes and smile. 

"Dean! Deeeeeeean! It's Y/N, come back!"

You then turn up the street and round the corner of he park. You don't think of looking there; he probably is much farther away than the park a block up from your house. You wouldn't blame him if it were true.

But there Dean sits, looking down at his feet as he sits atop the jagged swing, lightly going back and fourth. 

Your eyes water just looking at his disheveled, hunched over figure. Dean had loosened his tie, unbuttoned the buttons as well. His shoes were somewhat muddy, being on the playground and all. But he didn't look like he was having much fun. 

The memory of taking him here comes back in visions, images. You had left him out all night because he escaped and you were unable to find him in time. This is where he goes? Of all places? Fuck, why not just go take the first one way ticket move to Hawaii or something. With his charm, he could make success anywhere. Not with you here.

"Dean," you croak, turning off your flashlight. Immedietely reacting, his eyes take in your exhausted figure and he gets up off the swing, picks up what looks to be a -cigarette? Why on earth would he have a cigarette?- and to your surprise takes a puff. Jesus, you leave him for an hour and he's already smoking. Hoo-fucking-ray Y/N.

"Y/N." he remains closed off as he greets you. Greeting you with what feels like a goodbye.

*Please. I know I drove you away but god I'd do anything for you to stay with me*

"Gonna drag me back home like the dog I am, huh? What? Y/N gotta leash and collar too? I'm just a mut, like you said. Scooby Snack? I loved those. You know you should really-"

You race up to him, boots stomping over all the rocks on the playground as you reach up and cup his head in your hands. When he pulls away, you yank him down to eye level.

"I'm sorry."

And then you kiss him. 

You're not sure what kind of kiss this is, but it's fucking furious, Dean is kissing back with just as much anger and disappointment as you have. His hands reach for your head and pushes you that much more into him, and both your tongues battle for nothing particular. Not dominance. Not anything. 

"I forgive you, Owner." he mutters, pulling away not far enough, but close enough to where you lips still touch as he speaks. Each of you two's breathing is entangled, a rush of pants coming from both your mouths and you don't know why he forgives you after how awful you treated him in a public place, but he forgives you anyway, and that alone makes you want more. 

You don't know what drove you to make him go. He's all your heart has ever needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (fuckthat-bosses.tumblr.com for more)


	5. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, yes there will be another chapter, yes more smut will happen, yes I might do another conflict or I might give an epilogue I'm unsure which quite yet.

Dean can't believe an hour ago he was crying because you had told him you'd never want him. You'd never be with him, never touch or kiss Dean with the reciprocated love he has for you, has had for so so many years. 

Now, he lays in your bed on his back with nerves kicking in harder than they were when you both kissed at the park. Suit slowly being pulled off by your magic hands, the nervous man wiggles like a worm under your touch sensitively, not used to getting any attention that isn't the occasional petting of the head. Every sense he's had, touching, hearing, seeing, smelling, all of them are heightened. Sure, dogs can smell better and hear better. But it wasn't like this. He wasn't kicking and screaming in his mind about if he's doing right or wrong by touching you here, moaning when you do that, kissing you in a certain spot. Dean can now hear every slap of your lips as you kiss down his chest, the slight suckling of your mouth when you leave purple splotches. 

"I can show you," she whispered to him when he confessed he's never done anything like this before. 

"C-can you? I can't lead it or anything, I don't know how-" Dean is rambling quietely under his breath and luckily gets a finger to his lips to shush him. The green eyed man gulps.

"Just watch." She instructs, pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it carelessly. Your bra stays on, the lacy red material covering your nipples but still giving Dean glimpses of soft skin underneath it. He wants to touch all of the skin.

Hesitantly, as if he were petting a mean looking dog (ha), he places his hands on your chest first knowing if you even like it or not. Seeing no signs of discomfort or hearing complaints, he lets his hands travel and explore the smoothest skin he'd ever felt. 

"Beautiful, gorgeous," he marvels at your torso, not cupping or rubbing anything, just trailing his fingers to see what it's like. You scoff then laugh a little.

"You have no one to compare me to, Dean." You observe, knowing Dean hasn't seen any other girls or been with any other girls. You're all he has seen and for some damn reason he picks you anyways, each time.

"I don't want to. I don't wanna compare you to anyone else, Y/N," he mutters, not meeting your eyes as his still look in awe at your body. "don't want you comparing yourself to anyone else, either. You're so unique, so perfect in your own little way," he looks at you finally. 

No ones ever really given you the time of day to talk about what you look like or how special you are. So, that being said, you get a little fidgety and lose your confidence. "Mm, uh, thanks." 

"'S true. You're amazing," he kisses you again when he realizes he doesn't have to dream about it anymore, could do it for real. Doesn't need your permission given what both of you are about to do. God, the realization feels amazing and he just lets out a happy sigh thinking of how many more times he'll kiss you in his lifetime. Dean'll be human forever, you'll love him forever. Maybe even get puppies, er- humans? Babies, Dean remembers. They're called babies when they're human fetuses, and pups when they're new born dogs. 

"Y'know. Isn't this a little weird? Aren't I your mom or something?" You joke.

The wide green eyes just got wider, and Dean straightens himself up off the bed. "You didn't give birth to me. Wait, did you? You didn't. Did you? Fuck, this is so wro-"

"Dean. Dean, calm down. It was a joke. I mean I did raise you, which could be the equivalent to a mom, but you didn't come from me, persay," you do the math in your head and shake your hand a little in a so-so motion.

The man visibly loses all the tension, hilariously, and lets out a grateful sigh. "Thank God," he says under his breath as he goes in for another kiss. Starting to learn how to work his tongue a little more professionally, he curves it around your mouth and licks your tongue over and over, his lips sealing your mouth and you'd be so screwed and shit outta breath if you weren't breathing from your nose. 

"Love you, love you so much Owner, Y/N, fuck." He gently cups one breast in his palm and feels around, curious and excited. The big hands fit right onto the handful of boob you have, and he lightly pinches your nipple, even twirls it around just genuinely wandering around to see what you like. Your moans give everything you like away, fortunate for Dean. You're not too loud; you've never been a loud person in bed, although the occasional groan of appreciation really helps the other partner to know when you're feeling good so they can feel good too. 

Trailing kisses down your collarbone, really taking the time to nibble at the bone and he made sure to leave a mark the little shit. Three purple blobs later, when Dean is satisfied with his work, he goes down lower and does the same thing, sucking skin into his mouth greedily but not hurtful at all. The suction feels good, and you wish to feel how wet you were, that was always a turn on feeling how turned on your body really was if that sounds right. So, you sneakily try putting your hands into the hem of your panties, but a smack on top of your hand stops you and you groan but not of pleasure.

"I just wanna-"

"No. My job. That's my job." He growls, literally growls (he's a dog, no, used to be a dog, he does it all the time) to you and he's sure he can forgive you for the interruption of his teasing towards you and just goes for the kill. Pink rosy lips find the skin of your pussy and just kiss, like he would his grandmother, but doesn't lick. No, his tongue stays right the fuck in and he does nothing but move his lips around to nip at the sensitive skin of your pussy through the holes of the lace.

"Mm Dean, yeah, like that, more-"

"What do you say, Owner? Want your dog to eat you out? Want it to tongue-fuck you? Hmm? Y'gotta tell me these things, I'd like to know because I don't really know myself." The cocky shit learned dirty talk, dammit. To think YOU were going to be the one in charge here. You knew it wouldn't last for long. He found his way, and knows how much you enjoy being eaten out. Virgin my ass, you think, he technically did nothing but voyeurism for four years. 

"Shit, Dean you know I said sorry," you whimper, squealing in your seat on the bed. 

"I need to hear you loud and clear, baby," he winks from between your legs. 

"Fuck! I'm sorry! I want you to fucking eat me, want my dog to fuckin'- fucking-- ohhh, oh God," he licked you mid sentence, diving his tongue right in and probing gently, swirling and swirling in endless circles-

"Shit, Dean! Yeah, like that! Mmm, mmmf, you lick like a dog," you laugh, hazy from the cloud nine feeling between your thighs.

Speaking of thighs, Dean brings yours up higher above so your legs wrap around him, free to crush his head if you wanted. You both are in such vulnerable positions, but you trust eachother. Dean has known for years in a second that he'd change himself just to be with you. And here he is, eating you out, right on the same very bed he'd seen you with plenty other partners before, sometimes just by yourself. He has you. He couldn't be more satisfied, content, happy, any other good word in the book. He has you all to himself.

Dean finds your g-spot quickly, getting to know your sensitive area, slurping and sucking every which way in every which direction. It's so good you can't warn him quick enough, gushing all over his tongue and partly on the panties as well, letting out a little scream. Dean is in awe the whole time, that twenty seconds of nonstop wetness flooding his taste buds, your noises of pleasure buzzing in his eardrums, the kung-fu grip you have on his hair. Tug after tug, he lets out a moan himself at the feel of being pushed and maybe ordered around a bit by you. He knows you can be the boss if you want to, with your attitude and confidence and nothing turns him on more. But the fact that you're letting him have this, letting him lead and suck you dry just makes the poor boy melt.

Coming back up from the bottom half of your body, he smashes his lips to yours meeting you halfway. Tasting yourself a little there, mixture of Dean's breath and just you. It all tastes so... perfect. Dean lets out a grunt of glory himself. "Jesus jesus jesus," he mutters, appreciating every inch of you when he lets go of your kiss. It's his turn now. Backing yourself up while simultaneously beckoning him forward, he gets the gist and eventually, cause of his stubborn self, gives in and lets you switch places. Him on bottom, you on top. Tisking to yourself out loud, you find that he still has clothes on. Dissapointing. Fixing that little problem, you seductively bite your lip and trail your eyes in all the innapropriate places in all the innapropriate ways as you unbutton the rest of the buttons, and oh God seeing him shirtless will never get old. Just as you noted weeks ago, when you first gave him a bath as a human. Perky nipples, strong wide shoulders, slight flush gathering in his chest area. You love having that effect on him and intend to use it often, getting him all red and blushy. 

Hurried arms are squirming to get out of the now unbuttoned shirt, but you stop them and let him know you're doing all the work. Soon the man beneath you is hot and panting deeply, loudly; ready for you. You felt his hard on long ago, and could see him grinding into the bed while he was going down on you. Still not touching him, though. You intend to make him wait, tease tease tease, just as he did you. Kissing his beautiful skin silly, making it irritated but certainly not Dean irritated, you suck the flesh 'til you manage a different color. He moans for you, saying he can't wait anymore, that he loves you so, and that it's all too much. You shush him and whisper 'just enjoy the ride, baby'.

Dean is so much needier than expected. It's his first time, yes, but this is the kind of needy you feel isn't going to go away no matter how much time goes by having sex with him. It's quite cute, but damn, it's really making you briefly pause to check if someone will be knocking on your door asking if everything is alright. He's LOUD.

"Oh, please Y/N, pl-please! I want it, w-want you, want this, fuck you like the tease you are, hell, I'll fuck you so goddamn good make you- oh, ooh-" he goes on, bobbing his Adams's apple with a swallow and bites his cheek. Your mouth is just a hairs length away from his now leaking cock, and you haven't touched it, just breathed and mouthed near his clad-covered girth. 

"Please? Owner, please?" he gains his voice again just to let out the last silent compared to the others plea. 

You give in, ripping his underwear down and make his dick slap against his belly, aching and spurting pre cum from the tip and traveling down his shaft, no doubt making Dean squirm that much more. Hell, any touch to his dick, any slight wind breezing past his cock could make him beg like a baby does for milk. You give him a few good slaps against your palm and strokes, the cock filling your whole hand it's so goddamn think and long, the bastard. The pink head is dying for attention, so you give it some with a lick into the tiny peep hole and stick your tongue in, swirling and lightly suckling on the thing.

"SHIT! God, this feels so good! Like that Y/N, Owner, just like fucking tha-at," his voice falls and stutters on the last syllable, making you grin. You have him wrapped around your pinky so effortlessly. 

You go down on him for a good three minutes before the signs start coming up, the tightening death grip on your hair, his noise being more drawn-out, he's about to come.

"O-oh God, shit.... W-What's happening? Fuck it feels so good, Y/N help- it's coming so soon, fast, I aaagh," he sounds so confused but not at all upset about the sensations he's getting.

"Shhhh, let it happen Dean," you murmur around his cock, humming and jacking quicker, picking up the pace intentionally pushing him over the edge that much further down.

"O-okay? I'll, I'll let it happen, fuck that feels-"

You suckle harder, and the farmiliar feeling of his balls tightening under your hold and-

"FUCK!"

He cums down your throat in ropes of white goo, and thank god he doesn't taste like anything, you want more and more. Jacking him off with each pump just squirts out more of his load; you let a few stripes fall in other places instead of just your mouth. Such as lips, neck, chest. Oh God, it's so beautiful. You've never looked so goddamn messy, sweaty, but holy shit if it's not the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. 

Dean calms down from his high, letting the glow and bliss of his first orgasm not from his own boring hands play out. Trying to catch his breath, he still finds the energy to reach forward and lightly tap you on your head to get your attention. He kisses you as you did him right after giving you head; a nice mix of tastes and textures. Dean's never tasted himself before, but oddly, it fits well with your natural taste. 

"'S so much better when you do it, Owner Y/N," he marvels like a kid who just bought a new video game. 

"Oh is it now? Remember all the laundry products I went through because you were so eager, huh?" You inquire, laughing.

Dean fidgets then shrugs. "Had to get your damn attention somehow." 

You hum an 'uh-huh' then get up to get a glass of water and ask him if he would like some too.

"Yeah hurry. Don't wanna be alone," helpless.

You fill a big glass up to the brim with clean cold water and come back to see Dean still on his back panting, hand covering his sweaty forehead in attempt to ground himself back to reality.

"Here," giving him the glass after you've taken your gulp, you see his body not really cooperating with itself and you just end up making him sit up on the bed, putting the glass to his lips for him and stopping once you've heard a satisfying amount of gulps go down.

"Thanks Y/N. For, for all of it. It was amazing. I've never felt that way before, not even with my um... myself." He finishes lamely, shyly looking down and playing with his hands.

"Yeah. I must admit that was pretty okay too," you laugh, obviously lying. It was more than pretty okay, it was damn incredible.

Dean wants to say he can't wait to do more, but he doesn't want that to sound forceful or controlling, as if you both are for sure gonna go all the way. Hell, Dean would be happy if you both just give eachother head for the rest of your days. It's that good, so fucking good. He feels too fucked out just from a blowjob. Closing his eyes, he finds your hands underneath the blanket and holds it tightly, possesively. 

"I love you, Dean." You kiss a mark you had left him on his collarbone, and he feels he might lose his voice from how much he just melts and balls up every time you tell him that.


	6. Take A Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some porn and feels.

There's a hot, wet tongue exploring all the right places when you awake the following morning of a great night yesterday, familiar hands keeping you in place on the bones of your hips. You know the name to moan already.

"Ah, f-fuck Dean-" 

"Shhh, taking care of you right now. It's okay," he cooes before going back to work on your lower belly tracing his lips and tongue in shapes and patterns in all your weak erogenous zones he learned last night. The boy looks like he's really fucking enjoying himself too, seeing you so vulnerable and at peace with his face heading between your legs. It's a blessing, really. His only wish coming true. To be human. To be loved. Not just by anyone, by her. You. 

You taste better than cherry pie, your pure scent without any perfume or anything not natural. It's just you and it turns Dean on more than anything else. He remembers trying to get over his strange emotions for his owner as he tried acting out for your attention. Your ignorant, possessive boyfriend took you from him for a long time so the occasional knocking over of the beverages on the counter, getting in the trash, chewing up part of the sofa. The man hopes he won't ever have to be touch deprived again. 

Moans are flying from the mouth on your pussy, even though he enjoys this more than you do, licking like a dog and occasionally sucking and swirling his tongue around inside. Trying to remember the tricks you liked from last night, he crooks in the tip of his finger along with his tongue and gently massages it around, getting it wet. Or wetter than you already were. Your squeal certainly confirmed his suspicions and he dove in deeper, creating obsene noises coming from beneath the covers. You push back the comforter so you can see his face from underneath, and sure as shit, he's grinning ear to ear with the knowledge of just what he does to you. You'll have to give him some pay back later. 

"Ohhh, mmhm yeah." You mindlessly toss your head back, not a care in the world for anything that's not Dean or his tongue. Dean is in awe of every move you make, every beat of your heart that gradually gets faster and faster as his tongue gets slower and slower. He sucks in earnest, looking up at you innocently enough doing this ungodly act, his long eyelashes and excited sparkly green eyes staring straight at you as he twists his tongue a little more and crooks his finger. 

"That feel good, Y/N baby? You like me doing this? Better than anyone else you ever had?" He needs constant reassurance. He feels so lucky to have you, and every now and that he just needs to know you're really his and you won't leave him again. That he's good enough.

"Mm, yes, God yes, Dean, better than everyone else. Best I've ever had," you answer, clawing at his scalp and surely hurting him at least a little with how enthusiastic your fingers are yanking.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm the best you've ever had. Don't you forget it, no one else'll love you like I do, you hear?" He grunts, roughly but his words soft as he picks up the pace, his finger pushing in and out, in and out and in and out just so, with his tongue dipping in too but also letting go to give you some words of encouragement to get you close. 

"You're mine. Taste so good, my pet tastes so good," he groans, all to be interrupted by you slamming him right back down on you with your careless hands. Want want want.

"T-taste good?"

Dean actually chuckles in disbelief that you would even ask that. "Of course. So good. Fuckin' breakfast lunch and dinner good." He assures, licking a long stripe right up from bottom to your clit and starts sucking your clit like a pro and you really do wonder if when he was a dog he did this too because it should take PRACTICE to be this thorough.

"I've known you a long time, Y/N. Know every weak spot, every quirk, everything," he purrs reading your mind. 

"Mmm, know me more than anyone else baby. Y-you do it just how I like," you sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Found something I think you might like. Think it'll feel real good."

"Oh really? What'd you find, Dean?"

"This." He takes something out of his pocket - why is he even wearing jeans? - and turns it on, and you hear the familiar sound of a little buzzing hum come from the tiny stick. Dean sticks it right on you, and yeah, you knew he'd find your drawer at some point or get into it already. You nearly scream; the vibrations hitting the perfect spots, Dean guiding the vibe in all the right places, watching with excitement just what he does to you. 

Not lasting very long, your wetness probably staining the sheets and getting all over Dean's hands, your fingers tighten their already compact grip on his dirty blond hair, and he pushes the vibe in and out, fucking you with it and even reaching into his own jeans sneakily to stroke himself too. He just can't help it. The pleasure is intense, too too much, far too much for you to hold it together in front of him and you're not shy anymore, raising your voice and saying words that don't even really sound like English, just sounds to show you're close and what he is doing is so, so good. 

With a lick of his lips, and a smirk with a certain look - almost mischievous - in his eyes, he cranks up the setting on the moving stick and you lose it. 

"Yeah, yeah come all over me baby, just lose it. Doing so good, love you so much. You feel me baby? See me touching myself all cuzza you? Y/N, you fucking ruined me. No one else is this gorgeous coming. Go on, do it. Come for your baby. For me." He's sure you can't hear all his words they're softly spoken, but you do one last scream before letting go, stuttering your hips and uselessly grinding against air and his hand. Your hand had found his wrist to hold him there as you squirt on his fingers, the sheer white hot goodness of it all making you exhausted immedietely after.

"Uhhh, fuck. Shit, Dean. That was- yeah. Shit, man." You sigh happily but sleepily, not enough energy to finish a sentence. He laughs, carding a hand through your hair and then stands up to get rid of his jeans and finish himself off himself, seeing as though you're too tired to help him out. 

"Mm, need any help?" You murmur, eyes feeling heavy as you fish for your panties and whip them back on to look at least a little decent, despite the fact that you're still a post-orgasm mess. Dean sees your fatigue and hurriedly shakes his head, shoving his right hand in his jeans and gasping for air in the middle of an unexpected moan flying out, seeing you, his girl absolutely fucked out just from his mouth and a vibrator. 

"F-fuck, almost there, almost-" he rambles, closing his eyes reluctantly, wanting his eyes to stay on you but he just can't, he's too far gone, he's so close, it's all so overwhelming and coming so fast. "Fuck, all fucked out from my mouth, aren't you? Oh, oh god, you make me come so hard, love having my mouth all over you- j-just your taste, ahh ohhh!" He stutters and shoves his pants all the way down to his ankles as well as his boxers and speeds his hand up, fucking his own palm right above you aiming for your naked stomach.

"You're really close, aren't you Dean?" You trail your hands and eyes on his body, getting him closer and closer, driving him insane with your gentle touch as well as the wandering eyes that just say you have so many naughty ideas left other than just getting your mouths all over eachother. He yells abruptly, your touch throwing him off the edge as he sprays on your stomach, claiming you. He can't say another word, can't do anything but just mumble sounds of 'yes yes yes' or 'right there like that'. The man who just came has trouble standing up and standing still, for the matter. Being his guide to a safe place to crash on, you move over a couple inches on the bed and lead him to land head first right on the bed, sated.

You hear Dean take a few deep deep breaths before he comes back to the surface and kisses your shoulder and lays his head down again, sniffing your hair. Laughing, you turn to him and kiss his forehead.

"That good, huh?" 

Chuckling, a hand comes to wrap around your stomach tight and snug. "Yeah, Owner. That good. Shit Y/N, I'll wake you up like this everyday." Dean lifts his arm to feel why his skin got so sticky all of a sudden, but realizes his come was still splattered on your exposed torso. He doesn't think for a second, just dives right in while he has enough energy before he falls back asleep and begins licking his own come right off of you, long strings of his tongue cleaning you up, tickling but sending shivers everywhere reguardless. God, seeing him eat his own spank is a sight to take in and never forget. 

Seemingly satisfied with his job done, your now clean of white puddles stomach isn't as gooey and he whips his head right back up and gives you another loving, exhausted kiss filled with nothing but passion. No more lust, just a plain 'hey I appreciate you' reminder. Those ones are pretty great too. Dean has many kinds of kisses, a different dance of his lips atop yours and you can always distinguish one emotion from the other all just from a simple kiss. It feels amazing knowing somebody that well. He hasn't even changed, it feels like. It seems as though he's always been this way and you're just now seeing it stupidly. Such a fool, thinking it was a good idea to deprive yourself of him. You know you need him, it just felt like a matter of time before he got rid of you, got tired of you. But you've never felt a better reminder of your worth in his perspective. 

"Hey, Y/N?"

You turn around to meet his eyes, or half-lidded eyes at that. "Yeah, Dean?"

"How would we go about telling people? Aunt Ellen and stuff. About us. That were together I mean." He asks, shifting to sit up slightly but make his back face you.

Oh. Never thought about that.

"Uh, well, how about 'hey my dog died but here's a guy I met and he looks just like him and has the same name.'" You scratch his back, but he shakes you off.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I want them to know who I am now."

"You do?" 

"Yes. I want them to know everything. I mean, I act like a fool half the time. I still tried to eat a part of the couch in the living room. They'll find out at some point I'm not normal." He sighs, sinking lower and lower and further away from you.

"Come on, Dean. I've taught you well. You're doing your best-"

"My best isn't good enough. I'm still a freak, you know? Everyone at the store a few weeks ago just saw it. Sometimes I just act like a pup again and it's hard to shake off-"

"Your insecurities are irrelevant Dean. You'll be just fine, you're perfect okay? Please don't forget that." You whisper kissing his shoulders and hugging him from behind. 

"You said it yourself just last night that I'm just a dog-"

You shutter. "God, no Dean. Please don't bring up what I said. I was scared, but I'm not anymore. I didn't mean any of it." you hear your voice gradually get lower and quieter, the memories that you've been trying to let go of just flooding back. Hurting Dean. Losing him. Telling Dean he's no more than just a mut. Oh, just thinking of it happening again makes your eyes start to shine with unshed tears creeping up to the surface. 

"Why would you say it then? To get a rise out of me?"

"I told you! I wanted you all to myself so I pushed you away a little. It's what I do, Dean. I fuck up and I am sorry but it will probably happen again if I'm not careful!" 

He turns around finally looking at you. "It's okay. I'll probably screw up, too. The only thing I'm good at is sex. I wanna make you happy. I just don't know how. I feel like I can't do anything because I still feel like a useless animal," he crashes his body into you letting him be the smaller spoon and nuzzle into your chest. 

"You make me happy. You being you. I love your goofy side. I never want you to change that for anything. Fuck people, you know? Their normal bullshit. I love you being ridiculously happy when I make pancakes or taking baths. I wouldn't trade the real you for anything." You pet his hair, in comparison to the yanking you were doing about fifteen minutes ago is immaculate. 

Dean is smiling now, grinning ear to ear. You love him for his childish behavior. He feels so warm in his chest, almost too hot even though it really has nothing to do with the temperature in the room. A steady flush appears from his pecks to his neck and a little covering his cheeks.

"You're amazing Owner. I love you," he kisses your cheek shyly and then dives right back in to your chest and breathes you in before you could see at his complete and utter blushed self. You don't even mind the nickname 'Owner' slipping out anymore sometimes. It's strangely comforting hearing it come from him after all.


	7. Meet the Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuteness and smut then more cuteness. I think I'm keeping this going longer than I thought I would I have so many ideas about this. So! Thanks so much for comments/kudos! I read every single one and they keep me going and give me more motivation.

Are you ashamed of him?

No. You couldn't possibly be. You said it yourself, and he heard you, that you love him and his weird doggy-habits. 

But what if you were just lying to make him feel better?

God, Dean hasn't had so much anxiety before. Usually he gets pent up like this when the mailman comes but now it's in full swing and his mind won't stop telling him he's worthless human and doesn't deserve something as life changing as a committed relationship with his owner-slash-girlfriend. Your words from when you went out to dinner stuck in his head. Knowing full well that you apologized and he absolutely forgave you, but he still heard them and sometimes at night the words just ring in his head. Like a broken record. Not good enough to be human. Not happy enough as a dog. It's so much more thinking than he's ever done before that he just wants to punch himself in the face to make it shut up, the imaginary voices. 

Wait. Could he?

Dean is ready to take a swing, positioning himself to take and give a hit at the same time with a squint of his eyes and clenching of a single fist. Dean wants to out with his stupid brain that makes him doubt any and everything good that's coming, until you stride in through the bedroom door with a phone in hand on speaker. The man ready to punch himself halts, recognizing that voice. If he had a tail it would be wagging, but he sure as hell is panting with his tongue halfway out by now. Jumping up and down on the inside and a little on the outside too, he immedietely flips out and forgets the anxieties for a moment.

"Owner, Owner is that who I think it is?"

"Shhhh!" You laugh, playfully pushing him away all for him to give you a childish pout right back.

The cellphone starts talking (which Dean still doesn't understand by the way no matter how much you try teaching him about those weird robots.) "You mean to tell me you are in a committed relationship with a boy you love and trust already? Honey, is there somethin' goin' on? You can talk to me. Mid life crisis? It's okay, we all go through-"

"No no, I get it it's hard to believe after my last relationship years ago and um, how that ended." You intentionally look away from Dean when you mention the past partners. "But I'm happy now. This new guy really is my world," you snicker, looking Dean up and down as you speak. He melts under the attention and you pet his head, threading your fingers into his hair as he leans into the touch.

"Oh I'm so happy for you, sweetie. 'Bout time someone notice how beautiful and smart you are. So what's his name? How'd it happen?" She asks sweetly, unknowingly stopping you in your tracks. You release Dean from your grasp and try to come up with something on the spot. Dean tries motioning something to you, but making no sense whatsoever, so leaving you to improvise. Unfortunately.

"Um, right of course. He uh, just sort of came outta nowhere." You laugh, scratching your eyebrow in thought. Think fast. You shrug and mouth 'I don't know' when Dean whispers what you were thinking of saying. "We've - well we have known eachother a long while, yunno? And, and it never came to me that he'd mean so much. That we would get along like we do. So when he asked me out on a date I was a bit surprised but said sure nonetheless." You smile at him. His eyes twinkle as he grins right back, giving you a thumbs up.

"And his name?"

"D-Dean. His name is Dean."

You can hear her gasp a little in surprise. Shit, she knows. Of course she does, doesn't she? 

"Huh. That's funny. You've always liked that name, haven't you? Coincidence. Anyways so when am I meetin' the bugger? Sooner the better. Jo's coming over to meet him with me too." Oh, thank God. She still knows it isn't your dog you're dating and technically what you're doing right now should be beastiality, right? Ugh. Gross.

You hide your shaking with a couple of coughs. "Um, great! M-maybe this weekend. He's looking forward to meeting you guys." You hide another intake of breath as said man enthusiastically wraps himself around your waist, kissing your cheek then gently rocking the both of you back and forth in an attempt of calming your nerves a bit. It works, but it makes it a little harder to speak like a normal person, so maybe not so much. 

"Alright, it's a date. Hope he's a real sweetheart."

"He is," you assure her as Dean nibbles on your neck from behind, making you actually let out a giggle. And it sounded awful.

"Alright giggles, I'll see you this weekend. Love you sweetie." Her accent is still thick as ever, making you smile as you say your goodbyes. As soon as the call is over Dean takes the phone away from you tossing it carelessly onto the table and kisses the shock right out of you.

"Nice save Y/N." He smirks, raising his hand to offer a high five. You comply, slapping his hand to yours then intwining your fingers together. "So we're really doing this. What's our story? Did you get attacked by a zombie appocolypse then eat your dog for survival and then met me and I saved you from all them eating you and-"

"Woah. Slow down there, tiger. I was thinking maybe I just gave Dean away. To the pet store, cause he was sick. Then you worked at that same pet store and your name also happened to be Dean too. Brilliant," you wink and pat yourself on the back.

"Too boring." Dean complains as he instructs you to lift your arms up as he takes off your shirt.

"More like realistic," you roll your eyes, but smile when Dean leans in for a kiss.

"C'mon, Y/N! We could get more creative than that!" He encourages, copying you lifting his arms up as you do the same, taking off his shirt for him.

"How about we talk it out in the shower?" You try coming to a compromise, pinching his nose as you both face eachother completely bare; no clothes between you.

"I think that's a great idea, Owner." He winks before coming in for another sweet kiss.

When the both of you step into the shower there's only one thing on Dean's mind, and it sure isn't about a zombie appocolypse or working at a pet store. 

"You're telling me you wanna lose your v-card in a shower?" You bite your lip to hold in a chuckle because he actually looks genuine when he propositioned you for it.

Dean nods furiously. "God yes. Tell me how to do it. Tell me what to do to make you feel good," he nearly gasps as your hands found their way tracing down his hips and teasing all around but never actually coming in contact with his dick. He's hard as a rock against his stomach, waiting to be relieved. You tell him you need to be opened up before anything real happens and he nods fast again in understanding, getting on his knees right there under the spray of the shower nozzle. The first kiss to your clit makes your hands search for something to grasp, one finds the wall of the shower as the other just goes to the obvious alternative, his wet hair.

Dean eats you out right there, lifting one of your legs up to the built in chair in the shower to get a nice angle to open you up more with his tongue and fingering you too, swirling his thick fingertips inside and it's so nice, so relaxing under the hot water it makes you almost want to fall asleep. He tells you all about how pretty you are when you're wet and moaning for him, relaxed and being yourself. How sexy you taste and he could eat you out for hours but he really wants to fuck you for the very first time not with his tongue.

"Mmmm, yeah that's it." You hum, coming apart beneath him and his touch. His warm wet wiggly tongue on your cunt feels so good, makes you forget about the stress and problems at work, about the parents meeting Dean, about everything. You could live off this tongue. You could ride his face forever. Speaking of riding, you snap your hips back and fourth to get his tongue to go further and further inside and you're not sure how a boy could have such a long, delicious perfect tongue.

"You're so good at eating me baby, so so good," you assure him as you recall this morning feeling the exact same way coming all over his tongue and his hands as well as the now dirty bedsheets.

Once you're open enough, pried wide open for Dean to fit in at least enough to wear it won't hurt you, you yank him up and kiss the taste of you right out of him.

Your hands are greedy and wanting, not waiting for him to adjust to standing until you grab his dick and jerk it a couple of times as the both of you touch lips. 

"Mmmm, your hands are perfect, feel so good, love you." 

Who cares about condoms, who cares about anything else in the universe when Dean's dick is right there horny and willing to be your toy. You'll have to teach him later on to 'wrap before you tap' but for now you're both so needy it doesn't even matter. You promise yourself to better influence him, not let him do this often but you're in the shower for god sake.

His girth slides right in, splitting you apart practically and stretching you full. It's been so long since you were fucked with a dick nice and big, thick in width and long in length. His cock dissapears inside of you, slowly coming in and out as you get adjusted to the stretching. It's so worth it, seeing the look of pure joy and want on his face, his eyes drifting closed and mouth wide open with a hint of a smile as his head falls backwards.

"Jesus Y/N, feel fucking good, love feeling you around me, oh that's so goddamn nice." he sighs, coming back to earth to kiss you. Your bodies move like a machine, feeling natural as ever just moving together like this is how it was supposed to be. His cock filling you to the brim, but when you look down you see he's just past halfway inside. 

"Think that cunt you got can take the rest of it? Fuck, I bet it can. Nice and tight. Wet and beautiful." Whoever taught him dirty talk really deserves endless payment from you, because you're the one that gets to bask in the glory of hearing utter filth come right out his mouth in your ear. Dean wipes a drop of water off your face as his hard cock inches in even farther inside, surely the biggest you've taken. He brings a hand come up to squeeze your breasts and he ducks his head to nuzzle at them too, kissing your nipple and humming against the swells. The vibration feels great, just as good as the vibrator getting stuck inside you by him, it all just being so relieving having him give you his virginity.

"Does this feel good? I need to know. Does your pet gotta get on his knees again? I would if you asked. In a heartbeat Y/N," he asks in a hushed voice into your ear, the palms on your breast distracting you momentarily but you get brought back to life when he shakes you a bit in attempt to get you to answer him.

"N-no, this is perfect, really perfect, oh this is nice." 

"Good. You know I love you Owner?" He asks gently, his huge hand coming up to cup your face.

You can't find it in you to answer, overwhelmed with Dean's dick thrusting in you nice and easy.

"Y/N. I love you and you know that right?" He demands snapping his fingers to get your attention.

"Yes! Yes, I know you love me Dean. Jesus," you answer sounds like a beg.

"Good." He smirks. What is he up to? "Cause I'm about to fuck you like I don't." He finishes, growling. Surely he's watched porn because that line is too flawless to be sited by him, but you don't care. It's all the hotter that he learned dirty talk and roughing up a little, that he's confident enough. You remember just a few nights ago he was nervous touching you, unsure of what's to come and how you'd react. 

Flipping sides, now you're against the wall, he knocks over half the products sitting in your shower creating a mess of bottles on the floor, but neither of you care. Dean results in sitting you down on your back on the little chair in the shower made for your body wash and shampoo. He spreads your legs that much further apart, hiking them up into the air and feeling the spray of water against his ass. Begins fucks into you just like he said he would. Balls are slapping vigorously against you he's so fast and harsh. Soon he realizes how cold you must be without being underneath the nozzle and he moves it forward just so the waters landing on the both of you. The hot spray and his cock filling you, you're sure this is heaven. It's so fucking incredible, the pleas you whimper in his ear and the dirty words he whispers in yours, you come so unexpectedly that just a sudden scream and tighten around him makes him shoot his load too, your smaller frame beneath him almost crushed from his constant harsh pushing in and out and in and out. 

When he pulls out he visibly shutters, so sensitive and touchy but gladly letting you keep him up so he doesn't slip and fall on the slippery floor of the shower.

"Th-that was amazing, wow. Now I know how everyone on TV feels like." He grins, almost tripping again.

"Jesus, Dean. Should've told you how hard shower sex is because either one or both of you fall every single time," you shake your head, turning off the water and getting a towel for each of you. You dry him off, truly entertaining yourself as you do it. His shaggy hair is fun to dry too.

Dean likes drying you off too, so as you take turns with towels and making funny faces at eachother. He interrupts the nice quietness when he speaks. 

"How about a coffee shop?"

You laugh, then shake your head. "This again? Dean I really don't-"

"That's as normal as I'm getting. Your ideas are cool and all babe, but they're so normal and bor-"

"Dean, come on. I'm tired. I just got fucked by a virgin- or not so virgin." You smirk, and he blushes. "I need sleep. I'm gonna take a nap, okay? If you want something you know how to microwave those Mac and Cheeses' I showed you. Or you could nap with me?" You raise your eyebrow.

Dean wave you off. "Too much energy. Have a peaceful sleep," he kisses you goodbye (or goodnight? He doesn't know) and lets you go to the bedroom and sleep by yourself. You deserve it, the alone time, Dean thinks. 

Dean isn't all that hungry, so walking around and exploring shouldn't be the funnest thing in the world but there's only so much to do around here without you awake. The man goes through a yearbook he finds in one of the junk drawers of your living room, finding stacks and stacks of old photos back before he was even born.

There are pictures of you in elementary grades, your bright toothy smile and cute knitted hats. You looked so happy, so full of light in your youth. He wishes he was human and alive then, getting to know past you and present you. He hopes to have the pleasure to know future you too.

Teeth grind and his jaw tightens looking at polaroids taken just a couple years ago in your highschool career, with your old boyfriend. He growls under his breath just looking at you smiling with his arm around you. There's another photo with the two of you laughing, and the last one makes Dean practically want to snarl and hurl all at once. 

The two of you kissing and your limbs tangled together in bed. Clothes are on for what Dean can see, but it pisses him off nonetheless. Jesus he's glad he saved you from jerks. No one loves you like he does. Certainly not Dirk. 

He has vague memories of you up at night sobbing, sometimes with the lights on and sometimes with the lights off. Sometimes you'd be sitting up, going full out and not letting a single sound hide and also quiet shakes of the bed giving signs that you're not in a happy place. He'd lick your tears off your cheeks and cuddle into you further hoping his message will get across. Screw anyone that ever hurt you. You deserve better than that.

Dean is right about to go back to the happy photos from your childhood when the house phone rings. Uh oh. Dean hasn't worked a phone before. There's so many buttons that all do different things, that all make different noises and he can't believe you know how to work something as complicated as that. But then again, you are so smart and intelligent to him. 

Fuck. Does he answer it? How will he do that exactly? Which button? 

He checks your room quickly to see you still in slumber, the covers everywhere but your face. He closes your door quietely and jogs to the house phone. Without thinking, he picks it up and just presses the biggest button on the panel and lifts it to hold against his ear like he sees you do.

"H-hello?" He tests.

Ellen blinks over the line. "Hi. This is Ellen. Now who's this?"

"Uh. Dean." Dean answers, palms feeling clammy unaware of what to say.

"Ah, the boyfriend. I'm meeting you on Saturday. I'm Ellen, case you didn't know."

Dean has to hide his excitement. He feels like it's been years since he's seen Ellen, but having to act like he doesn't know her is gonna be a challenge.

"Hi - uh Ellen, that's me. The boyfriend." Why the fuck is he so awkward? Couldn't becoming human also come with social skills? 

"Well, tell Y/N I called. Tell her her cousin's comin' to dinner this weekend too. Alright, sweetie. I'll see you then."

"Right. I'll uh, let her know. And stuff."

He hears her chuckle then pause. 

"Dean, can I ask you a favor?"

With a gulp, Dean says yes. 

"Please don't hurt my little girl. She's been through enough. Hell, I know you don't want a backstory or anything but she hasn't dated for years and I'd hate to have her heart broken again." 

Oh no. Dean doesn't wanna think about the jackass that made you stay up countless nights, and he doesn't even know what for, what the man did. But shit if he didn't want to punch a wall just thinking of you being hurt by anyone.

"I won't hurt her. I won't hurt her I swear it. She's perfect, Ellen. I'm not gonna give her up for anything." He swears, his eyes growing cold at the meer thought of doing anything to make you unhappy.

Ellen sighs with relief on the other line. "Did you say how long you two have been dating?"

Dean thinks for a minute. Technically three days, but he doesn't know if Ellen will like the sound of that.

"A-a while. You know, long enough," he cringed at the odd nervous pitch in his voice. 

God, Dean really needs to come up with a story so that it all makes sense and he can really impress you. That he's a good boy and can do anything you ask. 

"That sounded painful. You need to learn how to talk to other people that aren't me, Dean-o." You chuckle, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and coming over closer to him.

"I know. I wanna impress you really bad," he confesses, ducking his head as your kisses land on the back of his head.

"You ARE impressing me Dean. You're doing so well, I want you to know that." You coo, seeing his small mess he made in the living room with the photo albums of you and your ex boyfriend. Meeting eyes, you can almost communicate without even saying a word that he doesn't want to talk about it.

"How about those dinosaur-zombies?" You try, smiling a little.

Dean's back straightens as he turns around and starts to get animated with words. "I'm glad you asked. So I was thinking - maybe we could add dinosaurs in the mix? Like I'm smarter as a dog than to let a zombie eat me. I think dinosaurs are unstoppable! They're huge and the only thing to my advantage is that they have tiny hands." He mimics the dinosaur hands as you trying keeping the best serious face as possible.

"We'll figure it out Dean." You smile, kissing him once again.


	8. Oreos and Gummy Bears

"Pssst!" Whispers a voice to your left. Looking up from your computer, Dean sits on the spare swivel chair that was sitting in the break room and spins in circles vigorously, almost falling and hurting himself in the process. The sound of keys being clicked and phone calls ringing fill both your ears, along with a playful Dean to knock down more than half your paper work and spill the beverages served in the break room. 

"I'm busy, Dean. Draw me another picture, or take a walk - or something. I just need another hour and you're free, okay?" You sense Dean's impatience; he's begged you for attention this whole day and being a dog, he's used to getting the most attention from humans. But staying for the day at your office while you work, he's getting none and expected to sit and be quiet, which isn't the Dean you know for sure.

You look up briefly and straighten the glasses on your face to see Dean pout slightly, a frown making its way onto his face. He slouches, readjusts the height of his chair for maybe the millionth time, and announces his search for more glitter pens and markers to draw you another picture. He'd already drawn one of you both holding hands with a scribble of a red heart drawn above it. Your smaller frame being pressed against his was detailed, along with your reading glasses and hair. He drew his big green eyes and fluffy hair too. It makes you smile, the pictures looking like something a creative adult would do that had their hands on glitter pens. He tried teaching himself cursive in the hour but gave up and just decided to draw another colorful picture. The second picture is of the ocean and different sea creatures you'd taught him. A starfish, group of seals, a huge whale among other colorful fish litter the piece of paper. He really is creative and curious about the world, resembling a child in that way. You hope he never settles down, but it also exhausts you that much further living with a grown man that isn't really grown at all.

Dean trudges the depths of this boring office work place, which he still can't believe people can actually stand being there a full day, in search for drawing utensils. He finds a refrigerator and tries to plaster an innocent face on, opening the mini fridge to see what's inside sneakily. 

Snacks, snacks and even more snacks along with a large selection of drinks scatter the inside of the fridge, and Dean is about ready to dive in when-

"Young man?" A woman whose tone sounds sophisticated interrupts Dean.

Dean slowly gets up and turns around, eyes wide and lip between his teeth. Damn, he got caught. "Uh - hi." He waves.

"What's your name? I've never seen you in the office before. I think I'd remember a face like yours." She smiles, her voice changing to something a little more pleasantly surprised sounding. 

Is that a compliment? Is he so outrageously horrifying that she'd remember if she saw someone as hideous as him? Does-

"D-Dean. I'm with - I don't work here. I'm with my ah, my girlfriend." He gives her a tight smile and points in the direction of your department. 

The older woman seems weirdly affected by the term 'girlfriend' but continues her third degree.

"And you're rading the fridge because-?"

"What? Oh, this?" He points to the open mini fridge and laughs, putting his hands in his pockets. "I just uh, was looking for a snack. For her. My girlfriend. She was hungry so she told me to come here to look for her-" 

"Alright, alright. Just take the things that have your 'girlfriends' name on it and nothing else. Everything has a name. I'll leave you to it." She raises her eyebrows and walks out, eyeing Dean suspiciously with her heels clicking on the ground on her way out. Dean wipes a drip of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, then lets out a sigh, and proceeds to take everything out of the fridge including all of the drinks. Somehow, you don't know how, he comes back to your office with a hand- no, an armful- of foods and you squint your eyes at him.

"Dean! What do you think you're doing? Where did you get all of that?"

He shrugs. "A fridge. The lady said not to take anything that had name's on 'em, I don't see any names."

You stare and gape in disbelief, taking a sandwich from his grasp and turning it around revealing the name 'Tom' sprawled out in marker. And another sandwich that has 'Linda' written under it on the foil. 

"Dean. All of these have names. Please put them back." You instruct softly, trying to not get too frustrated and make him upset. 

"But - but I'm hungry! I'm hungrier than all those other people!" He argues, dropping all of the food from his arms to the chair. "Please, owner? Can I keep these?" 

"Dean, those aren't yours. If someone took YOUR food, do you think you'd be unhappy?" You ask, keeping your voice to a whisper aware of your coworkers surrounding you just outside a door away. 

He rolls his eyes like a teenager, and mutters something about 'fine, but I'm keeping the Oreos' because he 'can't eat chocolate any other time.' If that's the best he's got then you'll take his cooperation to just take one, but you'll have to teach him about stealing later. 

Dean comes back a moment later. 

"I'll eat you out tonight if you let me keep the gummy bears, too." 

Bastard. "Y-yeah. Fine. Take the gummy things too." You swallow, ignoring the growing heat on your face. You don't look back in time to see Dean's smirk and predatory eyes and eating his Oreos and gummy bears in victory. He licks the cream off the cookie of the Oreo and looks over at you staring and mouths 'what?'. You shake your head going back to filling in numbers on your spreadsheet. 

You've been counting the days. Two more left until Ellen and Jo meet this goofy, handsome but childish, inconsiderate asshole. 

 

-

 

If you would've known he'd be THIS thorough with his promise to give you head if you let him keep just the gummy bears, you would've let him eat steal everything from the fridge. His big hands are getting more experienced by the day in holding you, taking control of you. They trap your hips and thighs to the surface of the sheets as you whine helplessly; the sound of your cries loud throughout the empty hallways of you and Dean's home. 

"Shh, Owner, keep quiet just for me." He coos in your ear, lifting a hand from your thighs and going in for the kill. When Dean learned how many times a vagina can actually orgasm, he was determined to make you suffer in pleasure at least three to five times a night, not stopping until you screamed for him. Sometimes he asked you to be quiet, other times he would be go great lengths to make you beg and plead. You knew you were in for a wild ride for the rest of the evening either way he wanted.

 

Dean missed the sweet taste of his owner already when he awoke sprawled out on the couch with the sun gleaming in his eyes. The sight of the bright gold ball made his hand fly up to cover his poor eyes. Voices were hushing to keep quiet, probably for him, and he wonders what he'll have to say to whatever guests are here. 'Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Dean, Y/N's dog. I begged an old woman to make me human so I could fall in love with my owner and be with her. I'm sensitive and childish but protective of what's mine.'

"Dean! Good morning, my love," you snickered at his disheveled still sleepy figure. He opened one arm out to you for a hug while he rubbed his eyes over and over.

"Hi." Dean tried out to the unknown guest with a little wave.

"He's uh, a little shy he's always afraid to interrupt so he might get a little embarrassed." You smile at him when he takes your hand for comfort. "This is a friend from work, Dean. Her name is Bela. She works in a different division, but I doubt you ran into her when you came to work with me yesterday."

"So Dean, when did you meet Y/N?"

"Favorite baseball team?"

"Where do you work?"

"Would you think of having kids? I mean, Y/N talks about having kids quite a bit. How long did you say you two been dating again?"

Dean tenses his fists by his side and takes a deep breath. Keep it cool.

"Funny how she never talked about you until just a few days ag-"

"Y/N," he met your eyes as he forced your arm into his grasp. His nostrils flared, and his eyes had a shiny ring around them, hinting he was really setting into panic mode and wouldn't be able to control his actions if this woman kept asking so many questions.

"Ah, you know what to do for that report? Just file and submit and you'll be good to go. I think we have some errands to run so you might want to head on out before we do," you intwine your fingers into his as you make your voice as polite as possible, communicating eye to eye that Dean is uncomfortable and Bela really needed to leave.

Bela continued to linger until she finally had an outlet to Dean. Alone.

"I know what you are, you know." She crossed her arms and hovered over Dean, making herself dominant.

Dean blinked. "What?"

"I know what you asked for. And I was sent by Amethyst to tell you it won't last, what you've got with her. Your form. Just a heads up," with a shove of the shoulder, Bela walked off as soon as your steps were heard coming down the stairs. 

"Y-you know? And what does that mean? I'm staying here, that's what Amy said. I can stay like this forever."

"Amethyst," Bela corrects, making Dean blink in surprise. What the hell kind of name is that? "told me to come and warn you. That and that only. Goodbye, Dean." Her tone neutral, but frightened Dean nonetheless, and by the time Y/N came down and said her goodbyes he was pale and stiff the rest of the night. 

Even when Ellen and Jo knocked on your door to meet and have dinner. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Both Jo and Ellen came in like they owned the place, setting what they brought for dinner onto the counter and grinning ear to ear when they come across Dean on the couch, lying still and staring blankly at nothing. He was still spooked after Bela came, and nothing you did to try talking to him or helping did any good. After a shared shower and the promise to make him his favorite dinner (ribs) tomorrow, he agreed he'd try. But it still wasn't any use. Deans behavior, the lack of excitement and wonder in his eyes had stopped short in just a few hours. You hoped Ellen and Jo don't think he's always like this.

"You must be the infamous Dean," Jo said. Dean clutched his stomach in his arm then excused himself to the restroom.

"What was that all about?" Jo asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Just the flu. He's been acting weird cause he feels he's catchin' somethin. You know," you fake cough and stick your finger in your open mouth to imitate barfing. "the whole nine. It's a shame, I mean, he's been waiting to meet you."

Jo laughed and took off her jacket to set it on the couch. "Alright. I'll set up dinner, you get your boy toy outta there at some point tonight."

"Will do."

Three knocks.

"Dean?"

"Dean, it's me."

Five knocks, each harsher than the last.

"Dean!"

You open the door by picking the lock, finding no six foot goofy green eyed figure, but your same furry gold dog you've cuddled with for years and years. Dean.


	9. Nightmare

Leaf green eyes. Freckled long nose. Dirty blonde fur. These are the exact same features you woke up to every morning. He's your bestest friend who licked tears off your pink cheeks when you cried. Stubby arms and paws wrapped around your torso, snuggling into you every night whenever you felt lonely. He could read you better than any human could. He even cleaned up your mess off the floor every time you spilt chips off the counter. 

But now he's shifted. Altered into something not more, not less, just changed. He's more than his cuddles at night or his habit of licking your tears off your face. Hell, he drew pictures of you two with glitter pens and a pink heart around it. You never thought anything of Dean changing, it was just a part of your life now, but since your love had changed, everything had changed it became impossible to breathe seeing him as he once was before everything. Your chest enclosing on itself in utter panic, heartbeat spiraling out of control. You and Dean have gone through too much for it to end already. 

You never thought you'd hate to see him like this again. Gasping and backing up to the bathroom door, his high pitch whines echoed through the bathroom he had taken a bath in just weeks before for the first time, your hands all over him and telling him stories of his siblings and his mom. 

Crouching to the floor, you reach to pet him hesitantly. It feels farmiliar but not. 

You want Dean back. The real Dean.

 

Clawing at his suddenly uncomfortable skin was all he could do, the excruciating pain flowing through his bones and all he could do was try not to yell and scare Ellen and Jo and you. No. That was the last thing he wanted. He could feel himself shrinking. Slipping away. Like shedding a warm winter coat, or a layer of thick skin. Like a snake.

Dean tries opening the door when he hears you but he doesn't have hands. His ears ring and vision hasn't cleared. No. He's hairy everywhere again. Paws. No voice. No capability. Shit. Shit shit shit.

Whimpering when he sees you crumble to the floor, he tries so hard, so hard to keep you happy, to lick your salty tears off your face, to nuzzle into your neck, anything. Communicating is hard again. He can't lose you over this, not again.

"I'm sorry," he tries to tell you. 

"I love you, I didn't want this to happen. Please forgive me, please please please, oh god, I'm so sorry for leaving you, I didn't do it on purpose-"

She's panicking. He can see that she is. This is the part where he'd hug her from behind and just hold her, rock bath and fourth telling her how much she's changed his life and she could accomplish anything there's no need to worry. But he can't, and she won't be able to fix him again. Whatever trick this was, whichever mind fuck that witch bitch did needs to reverse it now. It was supposed to be perfect, meeting her family, getting along with them- Oh god it hurts to see her struggle to not cry. It's because of him. All of this, because Dean was selfish. He had to for his own stupid reasons. Who gives a fuck about his needs, Jesus if he knew how this would end he'd- he would-

He would still do it all over again and again. 

Dean can't stop crying, and she shushes him, amazingly put together once again, scratching him in that sweet spot behind his ear and telling him it's all right, it's okay and that you can handle it. Dean didn't think you could ever be so wrong and just didn't ever lack confidence in you but this is really it. Really done, all he's worked for is just... gone. With a snap of a witch's fingers. 

You take him out of the small space of the bathroom and into your and his bedroom to lay down. He doesn't want you to leave him alone but he can't communicate that, can he? 

"Shh, I'll take care of it. Dean, I'll take care of this. Go to sleep, I'll, I'll just tell them you're sick and- and we can re-schedule. Because you're coming back to me. Right?" You ask. Wait. "Bark once for no, twice for yes."

Dean growls twice reluctantly.

"Hey, I meant quietely, you brat!" You smile and pet him when he kisses your hand as an apology. "That's what I thought."

A silence just passes by, you petting him gently on the head and dog Dean just loving the touch, craving it. Maybe it will work out, maybe it won't, but he still has you either way. Dean should just be thankful for that. He knows you won't leave him for another guy just cause he's- 

Who is he kidding? Dating your pet is pathetic! 

"I'll be back. Stay here?" He whines at that. He won't let you leave. He needs you, now more than ever and, and if you leave he'll go crazy.

When you open the door, he runs out, practically jumping up onto Ellen and Jo individually and licking them silly.

"Shit!"

"Dean! Well, the dog Dean, not boyfriend Dean," Ellen chuckles, knees locking to the floor to get closer to Dean.

"Uh, y-yeah," you mutter. "Listen, you guys, it's been fun and all. Um. Dean, th-the boyfriend isn't feeling too good."

"I thought I heard something about you getting rid of Dog Dean?" Jo piped in.

"What? No. I mean, I thought I was. But I wasn't. So there are two Deans," you really don't feel like your voice is convincing but Dean is distracting them anyway. 

"I missed you boy!" Jo starts petting his belly and he wags his tail visously, so excited about all the attention. Dean did miss this. The attention and love. He thinks he misses holding and touching you with real hands more. Being with you is priceless and this isn't fun anymore. 

Dean starts crying again and cuddles up to your feet on the floor. 

"Awww, what's wrong baby boy?" Jo asks in a baby voice trying to pet him once again.

"I'll go let him out."

"Sweetie if your boyfriend ain't feelin' well we can leave the food here and come back a different day." Ellen offered. You took it immedietely, hugging them both goodbye. Letting Dean outside, he went to urinate then crawl on back to you, barking. Clawing at your hair with his paw, kissing every inch he could reach at this ridiculously short height. 

"Dean, calm down," you soothe him. "We'll make it through okay? You're going to get what you always wanted. To be like me, right?" You say out loud with a sigh. The sun is out, and your backyard is filled with sunlight and grass. It should be a normal day. Dean could've come with you to go to the park, or take a hike, or- or anything. Anything but what's happening now. You don't even know what to think as you run your fingers through your hair with nails scraping your scalp due to this whole new weight dropped on your shoulders, like you're a set of pins and a bowling ball just crashed you down. 

Making a connection with Dean, making love to him, seeing him steal food from your coworkers because he thinks he's hungrier than them. You smile at the memory of this afternoon. A steady breeze fans your break of sweat, and you decide it's time to go inside and put the food Ellen and Jo brought into wrapping and put it in the fridge for next time.

That is if there's a next time. 

 

Night comes and you cry through most of it all the way to sleep facing away from Dean to not let him see what he's done to you. You don't want to upset him so your hand comes up to cover your mouth that would be racking sobs out of it weren't for it. Your hand and pillowcase get wet.

You thought he couldn't notice, but the room was quiet, and he couldn't sleep either. Thinking it's best to leave you to your own feelings and your own moment, he tried snuggling into you and closing his eyes feigning sleep to make you comfortable. What more could he do now anyways? Dean wishes he could say he forgot how useless it feels to be like this. Dean sniffs the blanket that has your scent clinging to it and he kisses it to make a claim. You're his no matter what happens to him, he knows (just hopes painfully hard) that you know that too. He's said it himself, and you agreed, no one knows you like he does. They don't love you like Dean loves you.

Sunday morning you cook for the two of you, and out of habit putting his plate onto the dinner table then shaming yourself for forgetting. Putting it on the floor and calling out his name, there he comes trudging on his fours to the plate and eating it all up without so much as a chew. 

Absently petting the small curled dirty blond hairs behind his ear, you try conversing as if nothing has changed. Starting a very normal, very one sided conversation about what's going on at work and why you feel stressed out about this new project you and Bela Talbot are working on. You pinch your eyebrows together when he starts growling at the mention of Bela's name, but then again you don't remember him liking her too much and feeling like he was at a job interview with her probing questions.

"I just wish you could talk to me again." You mumble, and he whines a little to agree and then rests his chin on your knee.

You buy wooden block letters as a start to make it easier to talk. He knew how to spell at least a little from what you've taught him, right? 

 

"Why'd you have to leave me, Dean? Huh?"

Deans mouth is sewn shut, but he tries so hard to speak. It's sewn with a needle and thread and he looks to his right to see a mirror, showing his reflection where he most certainly has his mouth covered in scars from it. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby, I love you more than anything and you know that!" is what he would say if he could. All that came out were muffled screams. He fucking needs to speak- needs her to understand-

"How about you learn to suffer the consequences of your selfish decisions, Dean!" All of a sudden you're getting taller, much bigger than he's ever seen anybody before. Some kind of giant. But your face is morphing too. Into... into the same witch he went to to make the deal's face. Dean hangs his head low in shame at all the accusations being put onto him, and he can't hold in the river of tears.

It's disgusting, whoever or whatever you're turning into. Leathery skin and twinkly eyes with a sick smile. The witch, (Amethyst?) has long nails and skinny fingers accompanied by long skinny legs and a dark purple dress. You're not there anymore. It's changed completely into Amethyst.

Dean thrashes like a fish out of water in the bed when dream Amethyst begins whispering "I love you, Dean, wake up... wake up.... wake up!" 

"Dean, wake up will you!" 

And he's brought back to reality. Whimpers were being dragged out and his throat was sore from crying so much. Not that reality is good anymore but Dean sure is thankful he's back from the heinous nightmare.

"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." 

Whimpers fade until he's tired once again, drained from all that's happened. The dog falls asleep to your voice having much more pleasant dreams knowing you're there for him.

The next day you work with Dean on the spelling blocks. He shoves them into place to spell the message with his nose on the ground. He takes his time, clearly not being the best speller, but your heart swells bigger 

MISS YOU

SORRY

LOVE YOU

Your gaze drops down to him, and he has those same damn puppy dog eyes just staring up. 

They shift to look you up and down, then meet your eyes, then up and down you again. Wanting. Pleading.

"Uh uh. No. Not happening. Gross, Dean."

Dean whines and whines again while panting and trying to lick you up and down, starting at your wrist then going to your stomach.

"I am not being fooled into this," you point your finger at him then make direct eye contact. "No. Bad boy. Not while you're like this." Another squeal that you know translates to please Y/N? in that soft human voice of his.

Dean waddles to the spelling blocks then begins moving letters around.

GUMMY BEARS

You knew what he was referencing. The day he went to your office and told you what he'd do to you if he could just keep those gummy bears he stole from a mini fridge, the night of that very special day, his breath tickling your skin, your legs wrapped around your head-

"Well played. Very well played. I'll make you a deal," you point your finger at him, looking down at his begging eyes. "Look all you want but no touch. Got it?" 

Dean barks twice for yes and sits patiently. 

Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to tease him. 

Riding up your fingers that trail in your sensitive areas, Deans mouth stays open catching flies as he sits back and just watches. Fidgets. Impatient now, thinking of how it used to be. Wishing he could touch you and fuck you against a number of different surfaces again.

He needs go to the witch and change back. Fast. But no time now, seeing you give him a show not touching him but just yourself, grinding your hips into your hand that clutches at your soon-to-be unzipped pants. 

All work no play makes Dean a dull boy. He supposes dedicating one night to voyeurism isn't the worst thing in the world to do with his time.


	10. Disappearances, Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised to write this a long time ago but I read it over and decided it wasn't enough so it took me all weekend to add more. Apologies! But, there are probably a few more chapters left before I'm calling quits and just putting an end to all this madness. Thanks for so many kudos and comments, I love and appreciate each and every one <3

"Mm, Dean, turn off the light. 'S too bright in here," you close your eyes and cover them with the back of your hand and yawn, tears coming to your eyes from the size of the yawn. "Dean. Come on." You mumble again, a complaint.

Wait. 

He's not human.

Reality slaps you right in the face as you sit up to read the clock. Nine thirty. Shit. You're going to be late.

Clawing at your clothes, you hop on one foot to the bathroom attached to your room as you tug and tug at your pajama pants to get them off, nearly tripping and falling in the process before grabbing the towel hanging up when deemed successfully naked enough to shower now. The hot spray wakes you up it's steaming so hard as you scrub at your scalp then rinse and even brush your teeth while in there just to be safe of the time limit put on you.

Clothes on, check. Briefcase, check. No time for breakfast, you'll just have to suffer for a few hours until lunch. 

Grabbing your car keys, you yell out to dog Dean for the first time that morning. 

"All right, Dean, just- just do your thing all day yunno, I come home at five, your food's in your bowl, I'm sorry for leaving you here babe I just need to- Dean?" You pace around your apartment to find it empty of any dog whatsoever. The living room maybe? After jogging half-heartedly there you don't find him, or in the kitchen, or anywhere. Where the fuck could he be? He could only go so far.

"Dean this isn't funny. You're worrying me." You pinch your eyebrows together and hold your hands out in a panic, your heart rate starting to pick up.

"Fuck, I don't have time for this. I was supposed to be at work an hour ago! Goodbye, Dean, you can stop playing hide and seek now. Love you!" You shout as you roll your eyes and head out the door. 

 

Work is draining. Not having Dean here to accompany you, to draw you pictures or goof off to keep you in a good mood throughout the day with you in your office makes it tiring. You miss him. Well, for lack of a better word other than miss, but that's the only word you can think of. It hurts thinking you're coming home to what's not really actually him anymore. He's not a dog. He's yours. Always will be. 

"Hey you," Bela strides into your office and sits down on the spare swivel chair Dean sat in last time he was here. Of course that's all you can think about, relating anything and everything to Dean. 

"Cute pictures. Did you babysit and have them draw for you?" Bela looks to the thumbtack'd hand drawn photos on your board. The glittery, colorful and creative but messy ones your green eyed man drew.

Clearing your throat, you cough and keep your eyes on the report you're halfway through typing on the screen. "Yeah. Just some kid," shrug.

"Cute. So how's your boy doing? When I saw him at your place he was fine for a moment until it looked like he'd seen a ghost, poor little thing." She laughs. 

"I guess."

Bela looks you up and down. "Are you okay?" 

"I just - um. I'd like to get this done in peace, and I work best alone so." You hint uncomfortably and give her a small tight smile. 

"Of course, no you're right. I'll leave you to it. I just thought it was funny I swear I saw Dean walking by himself around town this morning," she smiles.

This morning?

"Huh? I didn't- I woke up late, so I didn't catch him but where did you see him exactly?" You squint your eyes. Is Bela lying or did she really see DEAN walking around? 

"Can't quite remember I was walking to my car, he looked pretty determined though. Just downtown by all the little shops and things." She twirls her hair in her fingers. Acting casual is the hardest thing to do right now, she had your curiosity now she has your attention. Your hands had tightened their hold on the corner of the wooden desk you're so anxious to find Dean.

"A-alright. Tell Margie I'm on break, okay?" You hustle to get your purse and toss it over your shoulders as you shut your computer down. Find Dean. Find Dean. Nothing else matters. There's a logical explanation as to why he was gone when you woke up, why he was seen walking around by himself-

"You're leaving? This early, Y/N it's not even eleven. Your lunch break's in an hour and a half."

"This- this is important. I need to go. Thanks for understanding." You wave goodbye jog down the hall and slam the elevator door button about a thousand times before it finally, finally glows red and the doors open. 

After driving around for more than an hour all over downtown, going into the shops just as Bela previously claimed Dean had been around, you called out Dean's name until your voice was hoarse. 

This is no goddamn use. There are too many people, crowds and crowds that are looking at you like you're just another homeless street living maniac. 

"Have- Excuse me? I'm so sorry to bother you, have you seen a golden retriever wandering around? Collar on his neck that read 'Dean'? Or maybe a six foot shaggy haired model wandering around helpless? Please- ma'am? Sir. Please don't walk away- I need he-elp." You ran your hands through your hair stressfully. 

No one listened. Certainly no one helped.

Maybe he was waiting for you at home, human, your last tid-bit of hope told you.

Racing and probably on your way to getting several tickets due to all the stoplights you were neglecting, the drive home was a rush to failure.

"Dean?" You opened the door, jogging room to room.

"DEAN! Please," you begged, biting your lip to hold in the sobs that were waiting to come. Weakly falling to your knees in the bedroom after finding no dog or human Dean in your home, you finally let it all out and cry. 

What's left to do at this point other than bury yourself in pity and pray to whatever God that Dean hadn't up and left you without a thought?

 

"Ellen? Aunt Ellen - I-I need your help. Please come over. I know I'm supposed to be at work. Yes. Yes I know ok? Something's happened. It has to do with Dean. I need to tell you something."

 

You had waited by the door lingering and messing around trying to keep tears in for Ellen to come. When she came, your plan of keeping it together went to hell. Yanking the door open, you practically fell right in her arms like a child again and cried.

"Shhh, shhh honey what happened? What did he do?" Her voice had been gentle and endearing right to predatory in half of a second.

"H-h-he left, Ellen, he left-"

"I told that boy not to do anything that would hurt y-"

You yank your head off her chest and meet eyes. 

"No! He turned back and now I don't know what happened!" Ellen raised her eyebrow.

"Sweetie, you been drinkin'?" She feels your forehead with the back of her hand and looks for any signs of abnormality.

"I just need to tell you the whole story first." You take a few deep breaths and then confess it all. Waking up to Dean not being Dean, getting mad at him, feeling strangely attached and attracted to him. Then breaking his heart for one long and treacherous night to finally apologizing and officially calling him your boyfriend the next. Intentionally leaving out steamy details you leave it at that. You make sure to press the fact that you don't know how or why, and that he just turned without your doing.

"He invited me to dinner, and I said yes. It was great but then he said he liked me and it's stupid, it's so stupid to have these feelings about your human pet but I mean LOOK at him! He's the hottest - off topic. Sorry. W-we made up, I apologized. And that was it. Said he felt sick and needed medicine but I told him to wait after dinner. He changed back. I was too late.

"It doesn't make sense. I know I know I know! But-but it happened and now he's gone and Bela said she saw him but he wasn't there when I looked and- everything's just so hard without him here any more." You squeal, biting your lip then rubbing at your beat red face.

"Sweetie, it's all okay, he's going to come back, you'll- WE will do some research. See if there's some scary black magic involved- or something different. But I'm here and I believe you a hundred percent baby," she tucks a hair behind your ear and brings you in for a hug. Trying your best to smile for her, she kisses the top of your head and shushes you whenever you tried to mumble something once again. 

You tell her good stories of Dean from the first week him human, how he loved the first half of the film Marley & Me but started sobbing and yelling at the TV the second half. How he would bashfully flirt with you with little comments about how lucky he feels to have you. And last but not least his fascination with television shows for children such as Jimmy Neutron, Scooby Doo, and especially Spongebob Squarepants. Ellen listened to it all, combing your hair with her fingers lovingly and chuckling every once in awhile when you'd mention something Dean did that was silly. 

"I really miss him, Ellen." you sigh in her arms.

"I know sweetie. I know. We'll wait 'til his doggy ass gets back here and we'll change him back. It'll be okay." 

 

You fell asleep on the couch right in the middle of another story about you and Dean's fun adventures shopping. Ellen just chuckles and unfolds a blanket, letting it gracefully fall onto your whole body as you groan then turn positions onto your stomach instead. Your aunt lingers around your apartment, not wanting to leave you by yourself with this mess you got into. 

The phone rang later as she poured herself a small glass of wine from your liquor cabinet. Hesitant to answer, but just curious as to who would call her damn neice at this hour - she looked at the caller ID to find it unknown. Answering it shouldn't be too bad.

"Y/N's residence, her aunt speak-"

"Baby, baby I need your help. P-please I'm, I'm hurt, I didn't know the number and had to ask- Owner?"

She knew who she was talking to already and she wasn't sure she'd tolerate any of what he has to say. Ellen lowered her voice, predatory. 

"Dean. You need to listen to me. Now I told you not to-"

"What? Where's Y/N? Ellen, I'm sorry to meet you like this but I'm hurt and I need help-"

A long pause.

"All right I'll bite. What's got your panties so far in a twist you had to leave my girl in the middle of the night broken and alone?"

Dean bangs his head against the payphone deliberately, not believing this. Looking around, he tries lowering his voice seeing as though there's a line of people behind him waiting for the public phone as well.

"Y-you won't understand. I had to change back, for HER and- Things got out of hand. But I'm back now and I need your help. I don't know my way around- tell her I'm coming home and that I am so so sorry." He stutters a deep breath and shivers, pressing his his into his eyes to keep them from tearing up. 

Ellen doesn't speak for a long time, Dean almost thinks she hung up. Who wouldn't hang up on Dean? He left his girlfriend and was a piece of shit overall- he doesn't deserve Y/N, certainly not a home either, does he?

"I'm picking you up. Look for street signs."

The phone call ends.

 

Dean bangs his head against the glass of the booth with a huff. Should've known Ellen wouldn't let him just talk to her. He cringed as he looks down at the bloody beaten wound of his abdomen - it stings and even stinks up the clothes he had to go to a random lost and found inside a store for. Looking around for any fancy names or signs like Ellen said, he spots one then calls once more to tell her.

With a deep breath the man lies down on the street corner resembling a homeless person and covers his face with the dirty trucker hat he'd found. It's old and used but it does the job, his head being cold in the breezy air of the night. There's so much loud noise, so many blinking flashing lights that are all different colors that confuse him. People are so unkind to one another at this time of night, shoving and spitting curses at eachother. He just wants to go home but after all the harm he's caused he isn't sure he deserves it any more. Shedding silent tears, he hugs his side with the wound still steadily bleeding into the ratty shirt that also doesn't rightfully belong to him. 

 

A car pulls up right next to Dean's face that rests against the concrete and he jumps back, startled and whimpering because it reminds him of what had happened before. How he got hurt.

"What're you waiting for? Get in, boy." Ellen whistles him in, and Dean opens the car door with struggle but gets it anyways. Sitting in the passengers seat, he doesn't even buckle his seatbelt but results to just stare out of the window and think. Ellen is the one to break the silence.

"Just what do you think you're doing with her, huh?" She looks down at him like he's scum, which she has every right to do, Dean's brain says.

"Just- just fell, s'all." He says casually, trying hard to come up with a quick story as to where he's been all day- Dinosaurs? Zombies? 

"That doesn't answer my question. She's been hootin' and hollerin' about you turning into a dog. Now I would love to believe her with all my heart, but she's been acting strange the day she started talking about you coming into her life. So I'm asking you. What is it? Drugs? Pills? What have you gotten her into?" She looks at him accusingly. Woah, is that what this looks like? Dean can't believe his ears. She told Ellen. She told her everything and the one response Ellen had was drugs?

"What? No!" He defends, raising his voice disbelievingly. "Everything she said- about how we got together, it's true. All of it. I didn't know she would tell you like this but-"

"You left her. All day she was wandering around because Bela said somethin' about seeing you stroll in' around downtown by yourself. Explain!" 

Dean looks shamefully down at his lap until he replays what he'd just heard and it all sinks in.

"Bela?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, a coworker. Why on earth would that matter? Just tell me why you're on the streets late at night!"

"I know you won't believe us but, I had to go back to the old woman and turn back. For Y/N. When I turned, I made a mistake, got in front of the road and got hit by this massive truck and just left me there for a few hours, and I woke up here and had to look up Y/N's house number in a phone book- which wasn't easy to find by the way- and that was it. I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry to you both, I'm sorry I caused Y/N that much pain. I j-just thought she'd be better without me. Hell, everyone would." He muttered the last sentence and hung his head.

Ellen stopped the car and put it in park.

She stared at him for a long time, and he could just hear all of the judgements she's making about him. How stupid Dean is, how he's a liar, how he's no good. 

She gets out of the car but Dean stays in, still hugging his bleeding side. A knock on the window startled him.

"What are you waiting for? You're coming inside and telling Y/N what you just told me, all of it. Now come on." She opens the door from the outside and leads him back in. A smile is tugging at his cheeks as he limps inside to see you sleeping right there on the couch, legs cuddled tight to your chest with a light blanket over you. 

"She's sleeping, either wake her up now or tomorrow. Your choice." Ellen whispers.

Dean takes off his jacket (that should probably be thrown away) and ugly hat and comes to rest by your side, tapping you on the shoulder to signal you to make room. In your sleep you still move over as he snakes his arms around your middle and kisses your shoulder. He'll explain it all tomorrow. Nothing beats just laying here with you, probably getting blood on the couch, just resting contently as Ellen smiles looking at the two of you and just hits the hay in the guest room.


	11. The One Where Dean Gets Drunk, The Very First Time.

The cold leather of the couch made you grumble to yourself about needing to get more blanket for coverage. Cramped on the small square cushions of the couch, feeling arms squeeze just at your ribs and a nose nuzzling in your hair just by your ear accompanying a large body behind that really isn't shy clinging onto you like this. Ellen must have gotten comfortable. 

You smile a sick watery grin at the thought of you being on your own now. You'll have to get over Dean, just like he'd up and left getting over you too, and just have to forget all that's happened this past couple months. 

Grabbing at the arms that wrap around you like a needy child, you look and see that those are not woman hands. They're not Ellen's arms, but much hairier and much larger. Risking a glance from behind, turning your head as slow as possible with your hair getting in the way, the snoring belongs to- belongs to Dean. Your Dean. But..... that shouldn't make sense.

"Dean?" You ask, eyes wide as you poke him experimentally. "Dean," you repeat.

He tosses and turns for a moment before he peeks one eye open hesitantly then chuckles uneasily.

"Uh, surprise?" 

"What the hell is that?" You point to a red wet spot that trails seas outside his shirt to the couch. 

"Oh that? Well, I uh," he let's his eyes wander to the ceiling and the floor, looking for an answer. "Surprise. Again."

 

"It's just a little blood, Y/N, stop yelling it hurts my ears!" He pushes his palms onto his ears.

"I was worried! You strut around town without me, manage to get hit by a damn truck and bleed your guts out on MY couch - what could possibly be so funny right now to make you laugh? You're hurt, Dean!" You emphasize your point by pressing harder into the jab on his side with the washcloth making the boy hiss. 

Dean takes the washcloth from you and puts it against himself and eventually stops laughing.

"It's nothing. You're just, y'know. You're cute and I missed my girlfriend and, and when she gets all worried about me it's funny s'all." He shrugs, a smile pulling at his cheeks.

"I just wish you'd wait for me or, or tell me with those wooden blocks I bought for that very specific purpose. You can't just do that. We're a team. Partners that do things together. It's unfair that you just up and walked out on me, because it made me get all these ideas in my head, alright?" You shove his hand away from the wound earning a loud 'jeez' from him. Slapping a large bandaid on, you give him a look when he hollers at the pain that comes with it. When the job is done cleaning it and bandaging it up, you reckon you'd just clean up the kitchen and do some dishes while trying to avoid Dean as much as possible. 

Did he even think for one second about you or your feelings about being left like that? Sure he did it for you, but what if he just changes his mind one day and decides he's had enough of you and does that same thing? 

You can't take that chance.

The very man you were just having awful second thoughts about rounds the corner and joins you in helping clean up.

"Hey." He picks up a sponge and rinses it through the tap, squeezing the water out when satisfied with the wetness and begins wiping down the island counter. "I said hey." He repeats, tilting your chin up with the hand unoccupied to only make you brush him off and turn away. He looks down with a frown and sighs, continuing the job.

A moment passes by before Dean tries getting you to open up and speak to him again.

"I'm just- I'm really- Ugh. I don't understand. You wanted me back so I came back. For you, for both of us. Now you're mad at me?" He simplifies, throwing the sponge back in the empty sink and resting his elbows onto the counter with his cheeks in his palms childishly. 

You sigh and put away the open wine bottle back into the drinking cabinet. 

"Maybe if you would have listened to me you would've heard just a teensy tiny detail about me being hurt about you just up and leaving like that. Do it all you want, just communicate that to me somehow, yeah?" You snap, hating your own voice more than anything right now. You do want him, and you're so glad to have him, but getting angry just feels like the easiest thing to do.

All the yelling you've been doing you'd forgotten all about Ellen being in the next room over. She comes out of her room in a robe tied around her waist.

She looks at you both with amusement as she pulls up a chair and yawns, grabbing a mug and the pot to make coffee.

"Glad you two love birds are workin' things out," she says. You roll your eyes and give no response. "Anyway. Called Jo, she should be over. Didn't wanna leave her alone any more than I already have. This should be a nice little get together, huh?" She smiles at Dean and he just gives her a half heart thumbs up. 

"I'll be in my room." You conclude, throwing Dean a side look and marching down the hall.

"Sorry 'bout snapping at cha the other night. Didn't know how to react. But since she," Ellen points to the general area of your room, "is down in the dumps why don't cha have a little party with the Harvelle's instead? Get to know us. Whaddya say?"

Dean looks back longingly at your and his room where you disappeared, thinking.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do it." 

 

When the re-named again human confesses that he hasn't been drunk before, Aunt Ellen and cousin Jo said they immedietely needed to revise that, whatever it meant. What's the big deal anyway? It's not fun, you're sloppy and rude and loud, so why would anybody willingly get drunk by themselves? 

"Looks like we have lots to teach you that Y/N hasn't even touched on yet," Jo smirked and pinched Dean's nose making him glare at her.

"She's taught me more than you think, actually," he mumbles to himself, smiling wickedly down at his lap.

"You mean...?" Jo raises her eyebrows at Dean, to which he nods with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. "Oh. My. God! That's hilarious! Mom, Y/N popped Dog Boy's cherry! This is gold," she laughs.

Bringing out two big bottles filled with a clear liquid on the table, Dean marvels at the size of it and takes it in his hands, sniffing it curiously. It smelt like rubbing alcohol, and the thought of tasting it made Dean scrunch his face up with disgust. 

"We're drinking ALL of that? That's a lot of bathroom breaks." He shakes his head at the unbelievable size of the bottle. It looks heavy. 

"No, idiot, we're sharing it. But I bet Y/N would wanna see how you act drunk. This is gonna be classic," she smirks mischievously, pouring some of the liquid in a tiny shot glass. 

"Joanna Beth." Ellen scolds.

"We're just gonna let Dean hog it all? Come on! I'm seventeen. He can't drink it all by himself his first time." She reasons, whining at her mother. Ellen thinks that they are in a safe place, and it's not like she has school tomorrow. 

"One. And you have to be on Dean duty with me. Poor kid's gonna have a hell of a hard time tomorrow morning." Jo nods enthusiastically.

"You ready?" She raises her glass to his. Dean looks at it questioningly. 

"Ready for what?" 

"A drink. Duh. We make a cheers. How about.... to first times." She smiles, waiting for Dean to get the memo. He hesitantly raises his shot glass to hers and clinks it, and looks down. It shouldn't be too bad. Dean mostly gets fed just dog food and water. What's a little experimenting?

He lifts it to his lips and gulps it down just as Jo did. Sloshing it in his mouth, he grimaces at the awful, menacing almost spicy taste but swallows anyway with a fat gulp, bobbing his Adams's apple on his throat and coughing after. Jo is laughing her ass off, head thrown back at the whole affair. 

"How was it, Dean?" Both the Harvelle's ask simultaneously.

Dean tries his hardest to get the after taste off his tongue by scrubbing at it with his hands.

"Horrible! Why the hell do you guys drink that?" 

Ellen is smiling while Jo still clutches her hands to her hurting stomach. 

"You'll feel it in no time, Dean." 

The 'feeling' comes not ten minutes later after three more awful gulps Jo practically shoves down his poor throat. She makes him drink another, and as it turns out, Dean is a pretty light-weight drinker. In no time, he's giggling and doing drum rolls on the table obnoxiously with his hands. 

"Joey! Jo Jo! Hey, hey you know what sounds good? You know what sounds SUPER really awesome-good?"

"What?" She asks between laughs.

"S'more. More a' that." He clinks the shot glass on the table and hiccups.

Jo says something like 'if you say so' (Dean doesn't really listen or care what she says) and all he pays attention to is more of the yummy stuff is filling his glass. He doesn't like the way it tastes, but just the way it makes him feel. Nothing matters any more. He's an open book. A happy, giddy and care free open book.

Suffering through the aftertaste of the shot, he strolls on over to the living room and turns on the tv after several tries of pushing buttons on the remote.

"Score!" he sing-songs in triumph for figuring out the weird box. His favorite show is on. 

"Can we play music? I wanna play music. We should have a dance party. Let's invite Y/N!" Dean rambles, his voice gradually getting louder and louder. Jo shushes him and says that they should leave you alone. "But c'mon! She loves music. We made a playlist together," Dean skips over to the counter where your phone charges and types in the passcode you told him, in search for music.

"So, tell me Dean," Jo comes over and takes the phone out of his hands, making him pout and whine. 

"Hey, I was using that!"

"How's it goin' with Y/N? Mom says she was upset." 

Dean stiffens then asks for another shot.

 

"I just.... don't know. About this. About ALL of this. It just doesn't sit right with me," you sigh as you run your fingers through your hair in stress with your other hand that's not holding the house phone. 

"Okay okay, Y/N you do have little to no right to be as upset as you are. But come on! This is your Dean. He loves you. I don't know, maybe just give him the benefit of the doubt." Cameron says through the phone. 

"Ever since yesterday, I just don't know if it'll work. It's too weird. I was kind of jaded when we first started 'cause of my last relationship and how that ended, but what if it's just... not meant to be?" You mutter the last words, ashamed by what's coming out of your mouth.

"Jesus, Y/N. Haven't you thought for one second about how screwed up the whole 'meant to be' philosophy is? YOU make your path. Not some stupid white guy with a beard that floats around in the clouds. You're the one acting irrational because it's the easiest route to go. You need to snap out of it and just be happy your Dean is back! He came back for you, if you couldn't remember." She reminds.

You pout and remain responseless stubbornly, wanting her to understand how it didn't work out last time you were getting this serious with a man, wanting to be heard about all the pain you've been enduring. 

"I need to go. Sorry I even called."

"No! Wait, what? Y/N-" You hang up and throw the phone to the ground. 

 

Dean gulps down the much needed shot to breach the topic of his relationship. After Jo gets behind him and starts massaging his shoulders pitifully, and Ellen comes over to sit right by him Dean then realizes he's got an audience.

"Um," he rubs his palms up and down his the pant of his jeans and takes a breath. "I think she's gonna break up with me."

"I'm sorry, huh?" Jo halted her movements. 

"Y/N was mad I left her but I think she's gonna leave me." He simplifies, wiping a stray tear that was on it's way to running down his cheek. 

"Aw, Dog Boy, Y/N wouldn't leave you. You're hotter than her other exes. And you're fun to get wasted." Jo reasons with a laugh. 

"Joanna, not helping." Ellen scolds.

"Just forget it," Dean shakes his head and gets up from his seat. "what happened to having fun anyway?" 

"Atta boy! Let's put on that music you were excited about, remember?" Jo pats his back lovingly and leads Dean to the fridge for more drinks and snacks. 

"How would she break up with you anyway? I wonder if she'd do that stupid 'we need to talk' thing to you. You guys LIVE together, what would you even do? Move out?" Jo laughs, and Dean turns to her.

"Beats me. Don't tell her I brought it up, okay?"

They stop when they hear his name being called.

"I know what this sounds like, but we need to talk. Can you come here please?" You call out. Dean hums and pales as if he'd seen a ghost and slowly makes his way to you, almost trips on the furniture, looking dazed and off. 

"Oh shit." Jo mutters to herself, earning a shake of the head from her mother.

"Dean, I just wanted to have a little chat with y- What's wrong with you?" You squint your eyes at him. "Is it your wound? Do you need another bandaid?" Dean shakes his head and all of a sudden brings one hand up to his mouth and the other to clutch on his stomach. 

It's too late before you realize he had been dry heaving.

Dean then pukes uncontrollably by your feet, throwing up a puddle of clear liquid right on the carpet floor.


	12. Lesson One:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus I am sorry for not updating for so long. I'm not the most organized.... but.... here you go! Hopefully I'll update sooner than later, I don't wanna lie but I also don't want people to think I've left this fic!

"That's it, that's it Dean just let it out." You cringe and close your eyes, letting go of the collar on his shirt when he gags once the next gush of stomach contents land into the toilet bowl. Dragging him to the bathroom was downright impossible carrying all his weight while he tries swallowing everything that's in his mouth to not spray you with it more than he already has. The poor guy wouldn't stop apologizing when you shrieked in horror the first puke.

"This is YOUR fault, Jo. All yours. YOU take the blame." You whisper shout as she giggles and covers her mouth when you turn away to pat Dean's back and rub in comforting circles. Jo shrugs and mutters a half hearted sorry with a laugh. Dean helplessly shakes as nausea flows through him and protests when you try taking care of him, wanting to clean up his own mess.

"Shh, shh just let me take care of that, let me take care a' you." You hush.

"Y/N please. I'm f-" he interrupts himself by gagging.

"You were saying?" You look at him expectantly as he hangs his head with a roll of his eyes. "Give yourself a break. You just ralphed all over my feet. I think no alcohol should just be an unspoken rule," you raise your eyebrows accusingly to Jo, "for people who don't have much experience drinking." You pat his back.

You drag Jo out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you, giving Dean the privacy he deserves.

"It was really shitty and irresponsible what you did," you tell her with a dissapointed shake of the head.

"Look, we were just having a little fun and after the stress that's been going on with this," she gestures vaguely to you and the bathroom door indicating Dean. "he seemed like he needed to get loose, okay?"

You give her a look. 

"What are you talking about, 'this'?" 

"I'm talking about the fact that he thinks you're gonna, I dunno, break up with him or something. He's scared. He needs you." She lowers her voice. 

Sighing, you put away the bottles back into the cupboard and check the medicine cabinet for anything to help Dean's vomiting problem, but decide against it just for a glass of water and ibuprofen. He should get all of the alcohol out of his system. 

"Wait here," you instruct, heading back to the bathroom and lightly knocking on the door whispering 'it's me'. Dean grunts a response. Opening and closing the door behind you, your instinct is to cover your nose from the aroma of puke, but Dean lifts his head from the toilet seat where it rested and comes in for a hug right away. 

Giving in, you tighten your arms around his middle copying his movements.

"I'm sorry I got sick and got it all over you." He mumbles in your neck. 

"Yeah yeah, just try to run to the toilet or a garbage can in time, all right?" You tease, handing him the water and pills. He looks at them with reluctance before he finally takes them, having trouble swallowing even with the help of the water. Going over to the toilet you flush it for him then close the lid and sit on it as you look at Dean, brushing his teeth in the sink after squeezing copious amounts of toothpaste onto the brush. He scrubs his teeth vigorously as he tries holding in the tears with a hang of his head. The inevitable is soon to come, he knows this, can feel it in the tension of the air in the bathroom enclosed space.

"Um, what did you want to talk about?" Dean's voice is surprisingly quiet and dare you say shy. Like a kid that just got sent to the principle's office. Rubbing his thighs with his sweating palms, he doesn't meet your eyes but tries to a few times, just deciding to look at something above your head to give the illusion that he's actually confident in himself. What would he do if you really leave? Dean knows it's wrong to be so dependent on someone, but......

It's the only world he's ever known. 

The next morning you avoid the topic at hand, sharing an awkward shower with Dean as he tries to wash your hair for you and make you stay in there with him. You gave him a half hearted excuse that you wanted to be at work a little earlier than usual. He sighed with the soap bar still in his grasp, smoothing it out over his skin creating trails of tiny bubbles along his torso and just muttered an 'I understand' and continued washing himself under the spray. You tried to get out as soon as you could before continuing to stare and linger. There's just no time for that any more. 

Dean only has one other option to fix this.

"You must be extremely desperate to ask me for relationship advice man," Jo laughs as she bursts through the front door not waiting for Dean to let her in.

"I didn't ask for relationship advice I asked for Y/N advice. You've known her longer than me, and you're both y'know... girls. I just thought -" 

"Hold it right there, Dog Boy. What's in it for me?"

Dean shrugs. "Massage? I give nice back rubs. At least Y/N thinks so."

Jo smiles wickedly. "Good enough for me. All right, so you wanna know everything there is to know about her, or what she likes, or -"

"I wanna know how to get her back. Make her like me again. She's just tolerating me now, I can see and feel it. I'm losing her," when he comes to the realization he feels his stomach drop and wants to dry heave again. Jo comes over and awkwardly pets him as a little _there there_ gesture. She's never been comfortable seeing people cry, especially grown men like Dean cry. So, she thinks it isn't nice to laugh and call him ridiculous but maybe help him out. She did see the look on his face when you were planning to break up before he puked all over your feet, she tries to stifle her laugh just think about it, so why not help the poor guy out?

"Okay. Okay I'll do it. Starting today, how about? Just... please don't cry on me. I'm - I don't really know how to help you out with the no crying thing." She adds uncomfortably.

"Understood."

"Alrighty then. Let's get crackin'. What do you wanna know?"


	13. Advice And Pancakes

Jo stays over throughout most of the day, talking all about the things you look for in guys that you're most likely too damn shy to say you do. Dean keeps a yellow notepad and a ballpoint pen in his grasp throughout each and every meeting, jotting down note after note after detail after detail with determination. 

"Number one, even though there are gonna be like a million number ones," Jo laughs to herself as she licks the saltiness of her fingers from the leftovers of eating chips. "She _loves_ dominant men. Like, oh my god. She gets all blushy and adorable when men, y'know, just push her around a little. _A little_. Push her around too much she'll kick your ass," Dean quickly writes as fast as his hand will let him and with as readable hand writing as possible. Dominant. Huh. He could do that. He could definetely do that. 

"Number two: Breakfast foods are her favorite, so if you want her coming home in a happy, non-stressed out mood, make her any breakfast food she'll marry you, man." 

That peeks Dean's interest. "Marry? What's that?"

Jo pales, out of words all the sudden. "Oh, um it's just this... thing I guess, couples do it after a certain amount of time if they wanna stay together forever. They invite family, strap on some suits and dresses, talk about how devoted they are and - oh. You wear these rings on your left finger here," she lifts up her ring finger to show Dean. "To prove and show you're taken and people should back off, yunno?" 

Dean nods frantically along to every point Jo makes, quickly writing down important points in bullet points, but biggest of all had been the words _Marry her???_ with arrows pointing to little doodles he had made to remind himself what marrying is.

"Dean, Dean look here," she snaps her fingers to get his attention earning a 'hmm?' from a quite distracted looking Dean, seeing his tongue stick out as he draws more stick figures of a man and woman dressed up in front of family and friends as they exchange vows and give eachother shiny rings to represent those vows. 

"Quick question. Do they serve any desserts at this ah, marrying thing?"

"Well cake is served, but uh -"

"Cake?! Oh boy, this is gonna be so much fun!" Dean drums his hands on the table with a big fat smile, then drawing a big cake in the background of the stick figures. 

"Dean, it's a huge thing you can't just do out of the blue. I mean, with normal couples yes but, you and Y/N aren't exactly-"

"Aren't exactly what? Normal?" He looks up at her with a blank expression on his face, a growl ready to escape. Jo waves him off with an uneasy chuckle.

"Complicated," Jo pats herself on the back from the save she came up with. "See, your relationship is somewhat complicated because, you don't fully know everything humans do and the customs, and she's in a weird place right now too, man. Believe me. She's stressed from work, and coming home to babysit you isn't the most fun thing in the world. Hell, I'm doing it right now and you're blowing things out of proportion and, not gonna lie, it's sort of pissing me off." Dean glares and mouthed 'what?' to which Jo rolls her eyes at. "Just believe me. Empathize with her a little yeah? Hell, her last relationship was so damn awful we were wondering if she'd ever wanna date a man again and just go for her team instead." 

Dean looks down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers as he wonders if he should break the ice and ask about him. Maybe another time?

_She's not here, he won't have to deal with seeing her hurt when he brings up something so hurtful from the past. Ask._

"What um, what happened?" Jo is caught off guard by his muttered inquiry she isn't sure it's the best idea to be the one to tell him. "You don't have to tell me. I'm - I'm sorry, it's just she hasn't -"

Jo stops when he starts stuttering with a hand on his shoulder. "Dean. It's alright to wanna know these things, but I'm really not the one to ask. I know barely the gist of it. I'll tell you that he cheated on her. A lot. Um, would go out and do shady stuff and sometimes get Y/N in trouble, but I was young, maybe twelve when they stopped dating, so I can hardly remember much and I wasn't told the entire story because it was just, I dunno, too much I guess for her and my mom to handle." She sighed, shrugging before taking Dean's notepad in her hands and reading it aloud. "You've got great note taking skills, could come in handy."

"Handy for what? Oh, and thanks." Dean has always liked compliments of any kind on his improvements. He still puffs his chest out and stands up tall everytime you say you're proud of him.

"You know what would really impress Y/N, would be if you got a job. Start paying some of the bills. Grow up a bit. You're twenty-what? Five?"

"Y/N says I'm twenty two."

"Twenty two, all right. _Definitely_ wanna get a job soon. Just start out small, hey! There's this hotdog stand just down the street - you could, you could make some money. Not lots, but some is better than none." Jo advises, deciding those are important parts that were good and covered for day one. She gets up, yawns, scratches her head then takes a good look at Dean's notes. 

"You should probably hide this. In a drawer or something. Do you have any stuff that's yours here, anyway? Aside from dog crap." She asks, sauntering around your and his home. The quaint-mess of it all is comfy, and she decides to nest in the recliner that sits in the living room as she munches on cheez-its. 

"Um, I have clothes and stuff. Y/N takes me shopping sometimes. I've got records a' my own too. She shows me music," he smiles all cheeky, trying to grab a handful of Jo's cheez-its before Jo smacks his hand away and hisses 'mine.' He pulls away, and mutters 'jeez, so touchy.'

"All right, so just hide that with all your uh, flannels and records. Maybe I could take you shopping too. Most of your shit's just band shirts and old jeans. Where's the class in that?"

"Hey, they're _awesome_. Y/N taught me everything I know."

Jo rolls her eyes. Despite how sassy, irritating and slightly snappy Jo is with him, Dean knows it's out of love. And she's been a damn good help. Hell, it's almost 5:30, which is when you get home from work, so he'll need to start busting his ass to make those infamous pancakes you drool over. He's done the dishes and dealt with the scary noisy dish washer before, so what hard could the oven/stove be? 

The man whistles his way through the kitchen, searching for a pan as he goes on your cellphone to quickly google 'How To Make Pancakes'. Numerous amounts of YouTube videos show up, and he gathers the ingredients he for sure knows go with it, such as pancake batter and butter. Clicking on the first one he sees, he smirks as he watches a somewhat attractive looking middle-aged woman start her how-to video. 

Jo takes a nap on the recliner, lightly snoring away with her grip still tight as ever on her box of Cheez-Its. Dean is scared flipping the pancake in fear of burning himself or ruining your treat, but successfully gets the hang of it the more he practices. 

Before both of them know it, Dean rushes Jo out right before you get home, cleaning up the mess, pointedly hiding the yellow notepad and even folding the blankets Jo had sprawled out over herself. The pancakes lay on a plate in the dining room served with syrup and a mug of coffee right next to it, ready for you to devour up. Dean feels proud of himself for the first time in awhile, and not just of the pancakes but of cleaning the mess he made up and getting all of it done by 5:00. 

The sound of a key jiggling it's way through the door makes Dean jump and ears perk. 

"Hey honey, I was waiting for you," Dean hops up and quickly discards your jacket for you, kissing your cheek and hanging up your coat. 

"What's with the ah - the get up?" You smile at the lit candles providing somewhat an atmosphere, the clean kitchen, and what smells like - Did he fucking make you _pancakes?_ What the hell is he up to?

"Just wanted to show you how much I care. Hey, there's something waitin' for you in the dining room," he throws you a wink before you turn around and head to the dining room and- yup. He made you pancakes. _Score._

"Oh my gosh, Dean, this is so-"

"Sooooo...?" He draws out the 'o' sound and comes over to you to hug you from behind.

"Just. Adorable, I didn't even expect-" 

Dean's lips interrupt whatever irrelevant thing you were going to say, and it feels like decades since you've had those perfect little lips on yours, since you've felt something besides irritation from him. You pull away and begin an apology, saying you're sorry for not paying attention to him and treating him different. 

"Hey, no sweat. Just sit back," Pulling out the chair for you then sitting in the one across from it, he then grabs one hand and holds it setting your conjoined palms on the surface of your dining room table. "Relax. And tell me about your day. I'm not looking to problem solve, just looking to listen." 

You just can't seem to control the heat of your face, the hotness of the room, stutter in your speech. Somehow, he's managed to change everything that's happened in a day of just thinking of you, cleaning and cooking a top favorite breakfast meal in your taste, sitting with you and looking at you. Giving you attention you feel you don't deserve. Taking him up on his offer of telling him all about your day, you begin with the new promotion you'd been given by the supervisor at work and how there will be a somewhat dinner-party hosted by your boss. 

Dean nods at you, but holds up his other hand that isn't holding yours. 

"Wait... so that means, I'm, I'm like - invited? To this, this dinner-party? Oh, and what does 'promotion' mean?" 

You chuckle, taking the first bite and humming, giving the man a thumbs up to which he blushes back at you for. 

Between fork fulls of syrup-y deliciousness, and even feeding Dean as well, you explain what it means to be promoted. 

"So, it's like a level-up in a game?" Dean clarifies, translating it to a more guy-friendly definition.

"Yes, essentially," you wipe your mouth with a napkin to hide your grin. Teaching him is just too fun, watching him learn any and everything. "And yes, you're invited to come with me to the dinner party. As long as you behave, Mister," you scold playfully, pointing the fork in his direction. 

"Another bite, please?" He requests, ducking his head shyly.

"Only 'cause you asked nicely, and you're damn cute when you do." You grin triumphantly at the increased red flush that spreads evenly throughout his cheeks to his forehead. In the candle light he is just too damn beautiful. His eyelashes look as though he curled them himself, and don't even get started on his now-sticky-from-food mouth that he licks even as he makes eye contact. _Jesus,_ you feel so lucky. Why you ever thought for a second of letting him go on his own for even a second is beneath you now. 

Feeding him another bite, you watch as his mouth curls around the chunk of pancake and engulf it, chewing still mouth open, but you don't think you could care any less. At the dinner is when you'll need to teach him a brief lesson on quick manners. 

Dean just wonders how on earth he'll survive with your stuck up, snotty work "friends" for a night without screwing up somehow. He has you to protect him, though. He knows that for one. 

He must keep you wrapped around his finger with the tutoring from Jo, because _God_ knows he's wrapped around yours.


	14. Adventures of The Office Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm writing Charlie in, wondering why I haven't already! Sorry for the longest wait for another chapter, I've been going through so many phases of getting up and just not wanting to do anything. No more excuses, I promise. Next chapter will still be taking place at the party. There will be more DeanxCharlie friendship because it's so cute, and so on and so forth. Enjoy, sorry for the wait!

"She's taking you to a _dinner party_ from her _work?_ " Jo asks, mouth hanging ajar in exaggerated disbelief.

Dean shrugs, bothered by Jo's sudden outburst. What's the big whoop? "Yeah? So what. Big deal. Just throw on a suit, drink all the free champagne, eat all the snacks - "

"Listen," Jo comes over, her tone threatening as she gets closer to Dean and drops her bag of chips onto the nearest surface. "Y/N's work is like, hella fucking sophisticated. It'll be like inviting a fucking sore thumb. You'll fit in just as much as a bull does in a China shop!" Jo gestures to Dean, and all at once his $12.00 sweatpants from Costco, his $10.00 black and red checker-like pattern flannel and his shaggy excuse for a haircut. His hair would be considered a bob cut at this point, with the neglect of scissors. Dean doesn't see anything wrong with it himself, in fact he likes the fact that you tug on it and play with it sometimes. It feels good to him. Why would he want to chop it all off?

"I don't know what that... You know what, I didn't comprehend a word you just said at all. Any of it." He simplifies, glaring at her. 

Jo rolls her eyes at the man. "You need to fix the fuck up is what I'm getting at, I'm giving you a haircut, and I'm giving you one _now._ " She promises. 

"I don't wanna cut it off!" Dean whines resembling a child, tossing his arms in the air and raising his voice in attempt to somewhat intimidate Jo into not giving him something he does not want. 

"Tough shit, Dog Boy. It's gotta happen sooner or later," she tisks right before she heads to the kitchen to pull out a pair of scissors before closing and unclosing them repeatedly in a _snip snip_ fashion. 

"You can't make me cut my hair!" He hugs the couch pillow to his chest dramatically, as if getting a trim is worse than murder. Jo just inches closer, smirking as she thinks of little ways to possibly blackmail or talk him into letting her do this for him. 

 

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Dean shakes his head in disappointment of himself, too afraid to look in the mirror to see the sight of him with, he's guessing no hair. He saw the pile of his dirty blonde locks scattered in a circle all around on the floor, so it looks like she cut a lot. Sure _feels_ like it too. The weightlessness, less heavy feeling on his skull. He hates it. He doesn't want to look. 

"Stop being a baby and look, dumbass. I'm done."

"Yeah, took you long enough."

"Shut up, Dog Boy."

"My clothes are already out of style."

"They were when you first put them on, jackass." 

( _That_ shuts Dean up and just makes him throw a fat painless glare at her before giving in.) 

Reluctantly, he lifts his head and picks up the handy mirror in his shaking hands. 

Taking a peek at his new appearance, Dean finds that it isn't bad. Isn't bad at all. It's super short, shorter than he's ever had it. There's just enough hair at the top that he can run his fingers through and probably style or play with it. The bottom is neatly shaved, edges nice and squared. _Huh. Not bad, Harvelle,_ Dean thinks, letting his frown turn upside down as he rubs his hands on the shaven parts, the top and bottom fuzzy to his touch. 

"All right, all right. It's not that bad. But if you think you're touching this do one more time, Jo - "

"I know I know, blah blah blah. I did awesome, and you know it. That's the point." She smiles down at him where he sits in the chair, lots of stray prickles of hair covering his clothes. "You better clean this mess up." She grimaces when she imagines in her mind how itchy he'll be in about three seconds when he moves and actually feels all the hair on him. 

"Goddamit." Dean curses as Jo lets out a laugh, waving goodbye before heading out the door leaving Dean with the mess by himself. 

At least he got a nice new look out of it, even if cleaning it all felt like a downright impossible pain in the ass. He looks at himself in the mirror after he's through showering in your shared bathroom, and thinks _yeah, she'll probably like it._

 

Tonight's the night you and Dean should be heading to the infamous dinner party, hosted by your complete ass of a boss and accompanied by your dickheads for coworkers. Being around them all day, stuck in a damn office, fueled by nothing but vending machine snacks and soda cannot make you feel any worse. You've thought of bringing Dean here with you again, but you also thought of how he completely robbed the public mini fridge of all its contents and nearly got in trouble for it. Maybe not such a good idea. But if he acted the way he did in a place as simple as your office, how the hell will he act in a very social, very tight, sophisticated place like the mansion you're being invited to?

Shaking the dreading worry away, you type up your last email and hit send, the sound of keys being pushed finally not ringing inside your ears anymore. It's nearly a quarter after five. You should get away with leaving not ten minutes early. 

Driving home on auto pilot made you feel slightly worse, nearly falling asleep on the ride back. You wonder what you'll come home to today. Will Dean cook you something new? Will the house be clean? .... _Will he even be there?_ a voice taunts you. 

_No. Dean won't leave the way your ex who Shall Not Be Named did. Dean is different._

As you unlock the door, you look and see all the apartment's lights off, making it unmistakabley eerie looking. You set your purse down before heading to the bedroom, seeing that must be the room Dean is present because of the glowing light of the lamp through the crack of the door. 

"Hey, we need to get ready quick, it'll take a while to drive out to this mansion my boss is staying at. I've still got your suit, in case you - Oh. Wow." You're gifted with the sight of a clean cut Dean, his eyes wide in the reflection of the mirror he had just been looking in as he plays with the short strands of hair on his head.

"You hate it?" Dean turns around, posture slouched and eyes reverting to the floor every middle-a-second.

"Dean, oh my god - you, you look adorable," your tone light as you walk over, ruffling it up and inspecting the job. "Did you do this yourself?"

"No, Jo did. She thought I might need it for tonight, yunno, with the whole fancy work party thing." He summarizes, taking a deep breath. You take a moment to observe the look on his face, and you couldn't see it before but he really, _really_ cares of what you think of him. You don't know how you could just see this now, but it's never been clearer looking at his need for your approval over silly little things such as cleaning the kitchen, or making you pancakes, or getting a haircut without being prompted.

"You look incredibly handsome," you assure him in his ear, feeling him stiffen subtly with the rise of goosebumps on his arm. 

"Thanks, Y/N." 

"Welcome. Now, we should start getting ready, shall we?" You ask rhetorically, grabbing his arm as you drag him into your closet to find what he should wear for the big event. 

 

When you get there, your entire firm is in full swing. Dean was a fidgeting mess throughout the drive over, asking what he should say, talk about. He even brought up the old fake story he'd come up with about zombies and dinosaurs. ( _I'm just saying Y/N, they'll ask how we met. It's romantic and charming- Dean, it's a story about how a zombie apocalypse and dinosaurs that tried to eat me before you saved the day. That's not exactly ideal._ )

Despite how insecure he felt, he really was handsome in your old suit with his hair gelled up. You almost thought you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself, but his voicing of the dorky ideas that run in his mind reminded you of your real Dean. Not that it was a turn off, but come _on_ , who could claw off a guy's clothes as he was talking about the last cartoon he watched?

He met a few of your acquaintances that work near you, but so far you're guessing Charlie Bradbury is the one he's connected with. Considering he had ran off somewhere with her and you lost him about ten minutes ago. 

"Y/N, Y/N!" Dean interrupts your so far pointless small talk about the wine they're serving. You turn around to the source of the voice and see him with a redhead, both pink-cheeked in a fit of giggles.

"Dean, looks like you made a friend," you chuckle and shake your head, offering your hand to the semi-familiar looking woman.

"Red, this is my girlfriend; the one I told you about," he jabs his thumb in your direction with a wink. 

"It's great to meet you, Y/N!" Charlie denies your hand and comes in for a hug instead, surprising but not unpleasant. 

"We were just blowing spit-balls to this one old lady for five minutes, had to run away super fast because she caught us," Dean snorts in the middle of explaining, grabbing Charlie's shoulder for balance as another fit of laughter bubbles through his chest. "Charles, did you see the look on her face?" 

"How could I forget? It was like," she mimics the woman by scrunching her face up as her mouth goes into an O shape. You let out a little chuckle of her own, this 'Charlie's smile is absolutely contagious, as well as her dorky manner. No wonder her and Dean get along, you think to yourself.

"I know, I know. That was fantastic. Owner," Dean tenses, visible to you but probably not to anybody else because of how well you've come to know his body language. He coughs before correcting the pet name. "Y/N, we're gonna go prank s'more of your fancy schmancy coworkers." 

"I'll see you later, it was nice meeting you," she waves goodbye and you give her one in return. 

 

You don't see him again until about half an hour later with, predictably a plate filled with all kinds of treats they're serving on a platter. You saw Charlie with another woman chatting, so you assume they got caught doing more shenanigans. You were surprised Dean was a little more out of his shell this time, not following you around like a puppy everywhere. Lots of the older women, such as Jane and Margo, took a liking to him. They went on and on about how handsome and tall he is. It brought a grin to your face seeing his awkward shuffling under the spotlight of attention. He liked it though. 

"Missed you," he brings an arm around your waist, the hand that isn't holding the food to squeeze your frame into his and pecks you on the temple. 

"You've been quite the popular stud, huh?" You tease, grabbing a cookie from his plate and taking a bite before feeding him a bite as well. 

"Well, I -"

Soon a happy-go-lucky middle aged couple decide to butt in on your conversation off the bat, both holding one another up off the ground from what you guess is drunkenness, slurring their greetings after taking a sip from their glass. 

"Ah yes, how on earth could I forget Jimmy and Dot?" You sigh, taking another delicious bite of your frosting-covered cookie to excuse yourself from talking to them for five seconds. Jimmy and Dot were probably the most famous, most nauseating King and Queen of textbook definition PDA. Every party they flaunt around eachother, kissing and snuggling and driving no one else BUT you absolutely mad. Everyone has their own husbands, wives, girlfriends or boyfriends. Hell, last time you attended a work-associated party like this you were single and bitter, repulsed by couples and men overall. Not even imagining yourself with any of the hot guys anymore. You had your dog to keep you company. But now, Dean was here, Dean was yours and here to stay. 

But your view on this snotty, generic pair hasn't and most likely will never change to this day. 

"Name's Dean," he gives a small wave, slightly apprehensive to make contact with the two from your tone. 

"Looks like you _finally_ found a man of your own, Y/N! That's so great. Y'know I'm very proud of you." Every word out of your mouth just made you want to scratch a chalkboard. What does she know? She doesn't know a thing about you. They both don't know a thing about not being in a non-codependent relationship for once. Jim laughs even though there was really nothing funny about what his girlfriend said and plants a kiss to her neck and - yup. there was tongue, you saw tongue. 

"Where'd you meet this feisty one there, chief?" Jimmy almost goes in to pinch your cheek before you swiftly dodge. 

Maybe you're bitter. Maybe you just associate them with bad memories considering every time they met with you at social parties like this they always brought up bad things. Maybe just _witnessing_ them make out like slobs everywhere, Dot's signature red lipstick getting all over his face and teeth is enough to make you feel unsettled. 

"We, we met at um -" Dean starts, his voice taking you out of your trance. 

"Terribly sorry you two lovebirds, but we need to go and do that thing," you smile a tight forced grin. 

Dean gets the message and nods. "Yeah, yeah that really important, special thing," he agrees, nodding his head a couple more times hurriedly, letting you take his hand and lead him far away from them. He doesn't question where you take him until you unexpectedly march to the bathroom, him in tow. 

"Wh- why are we here?" 

"Come on."

"But I have my food -"

"Dean," you start.

"Okay. Okay, but this is the ladies bathroom-"

You roll your eyes at his ignorance and pull him in anyway despite the excuses leaving his mouth.

"It's pink in here. Huh. That's nice," he gets distracted staring at the colored walls, running his hand along them briefly before getting his hand slapped away.

"Put the food down right here," you wait until his arms are no longer full before doing what you've been waiting to do the entire gathering. You yank him down by his bow tie and smash your lips onto his, nearly throwing Dean off of his feet with the enthusiasm. 

"Holy crap," he marvels at the feeling of your lips against his. It's been so long, like an entire day, but that's enough to drive him mad for you. He needs.

"S-somebody could walk in, let's go in one of these," he points to the stalls. You nod hurriedly, and he nods back just as giddily. Soon you're both snug against one another in the tight fit of the bathroom stall. Your hands are _everywhere_ already, it feels so good to have you touch him again. Your fingertips making way down to his pant buckle, your breath entangling with his. You're sure all's you could hear from outside the stall is panting and fumbling of clothing. 

It takes forever to just get his zipper down, but his zipper is enough. No time, no time for foreplay, no time for clothes to be completely off. You're in the ladies restroom for god sake. Dean uses his strength to heave you up against the wall, and oh fuck, it feels so much better like this. He moves his underwear out of the way, also taking the time to grope his rapidly hardening length through. He lifts your skirt up the same time the panties go down, and it's happening, it's all _really_ happening really fast-

The door barges open, signaling the arrival of not one, but two others joining you and Dean. 

Frozen, Dean doesn't move a muscle, keeping you prepped up against the wall with no support but his arms. Your panties were down, his cock hard and ready. You were so _close_ to getting to the fun part. 

The voice of the two do not sound similar in the slightest, no. One of them is... deep. Masculine. As in, not a woman. 

Is a couple really stealing your idea to get it on in the fucking same bathroom?

"Shit." You whisper to Dean, earning a look of sheer panic from the panting boy. Dean mouths 'what do we do?' with wide eyes. 

"Follow my lead," you let yourself down from the wall and tug your panties and skirt back into place, taking his cock and zipping up his pants. This clearly wasn't going to work out here. You need seclusion. Opening the lock and slowly letting the door fall open, you immedietely close it at the sight before you. 

Dot.

Dot and Not Jimmy grinding right next to the sinks. Their moans echoing through the bathroom, and they're right fucking next to Dean's plate of food too, which you're positive he won't be too happy about.

 _Dot._ with a man who is certainly _not_ Jimmy. On the counter. Making out.

_This is going to be so much more fun than you thought._


	15. In A Bathroom Stall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow soooo..... I’m not sure how to explain? And I’m not sure anyone cares, just pissed that it’s been four freaking months, but let’s just sum it up as a lot happened and I’m in a totally different environment and can probably start this up weekly once again. I’m so sorry I let you down, and if anyone’s still here, here’s the 15th chapter F I N A L L Y, after four months. Enjoy :)

"Is- is that-"

"Oh, it is." You smirk mischievously.

"We just met her with another guy, though." Dean whispers, still so oblivious to the utter wrongness of the entire situation. 

"Take a look, see for yourself," you tell him, pointing up before he gives you another look. Giving in, Dean then carefully climbs up onto the pristine clean toilet of the stall to get a better birds-eye view. He gives the sight a good long look, eyes glued to the woman pressed up against the surface beside the sinks and soap dispensers, her chest moving up and down letting out small growls as the broader man scarfs down her neck, even going lower and pressing his face in her cleavage while she holds his head there. Dot, you said was her name, has her legs spread far enough to let him hold her close. 

Dean knows the couple must think no one else is in here, I mean come on, the way the man's shamelessly dirty talking her while she porn-fakes all these noises accompanying it. Dean's eyes linger on the affair, bottom lip bit by his teeth. Deciding that he's had enough, the horndog, you drag him down by his sleeve making him almost give you two away with the loud hiss he makes. 

You won't allow him to mess this up for you, your one chance to plot revenge on this cheating snake that has _ruined_ your self esteem and confidence in relationships. Every party, every work meeting, it was _any dates lately, Y/N? You look awful lonely, sitting around in your apartment all day._ You've _despised_ the couple since day one, and you're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Ow!" Dean whisper shouts, ripping his sleeve from your grasp before caressing it as if you had really done a number on him. "What was that for?"

"For lingering, dumbass! We can literally watch porn on my computer _any time_ you want, you don't need to perv and watch-"

"Did you hear something?" The mystery man's voice ponders aloud. 

Dean remains tight-lipped, still holding his arm as you cringe from all the noise you'd made to get attention by accident. No. This can't be happening. 

"Mm, who cares, whoever they are let's give them a show," Dot says playfully, licking her lips and going in for another kiss before being denied access. And it’s so funny it makes you want to giggle because that is _exactly_ what they’re doing. Giving you a show.

"I think someone's in here." The man remains suspicious long enough to make you take action. You're not getting caught. You won't. Dean meets your eyes, communicating with his face saying _what on earth do we do now?_

You're sure the drunk couple won't _actually_ check to see if there are feet on the floor in each and every stall. But you can't be too careful. Better safe than sorry. You take off your shoes, careful to not let the heels click on the floor and tell Dean to hold them. Both of you could fit, that's a fact. 

After a moment of scrambling as inaudibly as you both could before it's finally safe, both of you cramped even worse than you were before in the stall that is meant to make room for just one single person. Dean is growing, he's quite a tall and broad man, taking up most of the room before you just resort to holding on for dear life at the collar of his dress shirt. Dean's breath fans your neck, the warm air when he exhales and the slightly chilly air when he inhales. You can still feel his obvious rock-hard on for you by your ass, after all, you two _were_ in the middle of something before these bafoons waltzed in like they owned the fucking place. It was then you do the unthinkable, lightly rubbing your back against his and feeling him tense up even more than you thought possible. 

Turning around as much as you could just to see his face, and the sight of a panicked, wide-eyed and nostrils flaring stared you straight in the eye with a painless, playful glare. He's putty in your hands as much as Dot is with Not Jimmy just right next door doing the same thing but not nearly as discreet. 

As soon as you hear the words of reassurance from Dot that no, no one else is in here and _please, baby, I want more_ you think that yeah, Dean's had enough and you're in the clear now to let your feet down as long as he stays quiet. You're not one hundred percent sure what your plan is, but right now just looking at him and seeing the way you affect his behavior and his body language just makes you forget for one second where you are. Smoothly getting your feet back on the clean floors again, you stop your boyfriend in his tracks of stepping off the toilet. Oh, no. He's not going anywhere. Dean stands still, looking down at you quiestioningly, wondering in his mind just what the hell you're doing torturing him like this.

"Y/N, what the hell? Let me get down!" He hurriedly whispers. You stay still for the most part, keeping him blocked by not allowing him to get back on the ground. You keep eye contact as you lower yourself a little to the level of his hips, and giving that he's kneeling on a toilet and you're standing up on flat ground it doesn't take much. 

This isn't happening.

You are _not_ going to give him head and force him to be quiet. Oh, God. This can’t be happening to him. Dean looks at you like you grew six heads because this is all kinds of wild, not believing for a second just what you're implying getting on your knees like this.

Dean knows you'd stop immedietely if he told you he didn't want to do this, but you can see his naked desperation. 

You trail your way down the V between his hips, kissing a trail down his completely clothed self. Dean gulps and forces himself to look away, but decides that there's absolutely nothing sexy to look at in a bathroom that isn't you. So he just closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, hoping that'll forbid him from moans and growls he has always been so used to letting free. He cannot look, just feel. The touch is enough to make Dean hum quietly, but he wouldn't hold back at the sight of you on your knees. 

After several excruciatingly long minutes of just kissing and sucking his lower tummy Dean tugs at your hair, a universal sign for _get on with it, Y/N._ you smirk up at him silently, seeing his nerves resemble the worries of somebody on a plane terrified of flying. You wonder what he'd be like on a plane. Would he be cool? Would he think it's an adventure? .....Would he hate it and panic the entire time like how he could be in the car?

You shake your head to yourself, blowing the thought away. You'll find out soon enough. It'll be entertaining to say the least, but it's also pretty fun seeing him get worked up for good reason and being forced to stay quiet. His death grip on your arm tugs, and you roll your eyes at the impatience. You've been teased by your past partners for hours upon hours, and this brat can't handle just a few minutes?

Giving in, you slide his pants free down to his upper thighs and kiss him through his underwear earning you an uneasy breath from above. When you first take him into your mouth Dean gets away (thank God) with his first sound he let out the exact same time a high pitch whine squeals out of Dot just a few feet away, her volume even higher. 

"J-Jesus, Y/N I can't take much more of th-"

The couple fucking in the bathroom right beside you finish, and wash their hands, probably still getting handsy before declaring their exit. You’ll finally be alone.

As soon as the swing of the door closes and not a sound to be heard, Dean comes in spurts down inside you with a pathetic needy sound, holding on for dear life at your arm, going between gentle squeezes to even digging his nails into your skin. 

"Fuck, that was a close one," he pants, sinking down into a squat position and kissing you on the lips as a thank you. Dean's pants and undergarments are drooping down to his knees at this point, but he couldn't care less feeling you so close to him, needing to show his way of saying _thank you, you're amazing, I love you._

It wasn't too long of nibbling at eachothers mouths and nipping of your neck until Dean's hands scurry lower, under your skirt and rubbing along your lips through your panties. 

"Mm, it's okay, it's fine," you assure him, getting an _are you sure you can handle without it, baby?_ in reply. "Yes, we've got to get going," you tell him, finally opening the stall door and breathing fresh air from finally getting out of all that claustrophobia. The man follows not far behind, scratching his hair and yawning tiredly, picking up his pants from his ankles and half heartedly getting them back up, his sloppy job of securing his belt has you on your knees again fixing it for him. 

Dean's eyes tear up from the lengthy yawn he let out once more, but he just blinks away the tears and smiles sleepily, kissing you again in thanks for helping. Post orgasm he was just a fumbling lazy mess, but you find your way back to the party with your boyfriend in tow as he lazily combs his fingers through your hair. 

"Dean, Y/N! I was wondering where you losers went," Charlie pops out from the corner, widening her eyes and acknowledging Dean's clumsy sleepiness. She nods at him before coming closer to your ear and tells you with a whisper, "OK, either he just did a fat bong rip or he just had the best orgasm of his life."

You roll your eyes with a smile, shaking your head.

"The ladder, actually. He gets desperate in public places."

"You guys smoke pot too? Oh, my God. I've been waiting for a couple of stoner buddies. Hey, between you, me, him and Dorothy, I've got a little baggie of you-know-what in my pocket, so just say the word and we'll light it up outsi-"

You snort, interrupting.

"No no, although.... Tempting. Definetely tempting. Maybe I'll take you up on that but uh, I actually meant the other thing." Charlie's shit eating grin is a sight to behold, eating up her whole face as she sings the tune _bowchickabowow_ and winks at Dean. 

"That's hot. Me and Dorothy, we've actually done some pretty kinky stuff in the lady toilets too." You both high five eachother before you remember the reason why your night escalated, the blowjob not included. Dean finally realizes where he is and waves excitedly at Charlie, getting a thumbs up in return.

"It's okay, Dean. I know what it's like to be pretty woozy after climax." 

"Okay, you know the ah, nauseating in-your-face straight couple that walks around drunk at every single-"

"Jim and Polkadot?"

You put your finger on your nose to sign that yes, that’s right on the money.

“So get this: Dot and some gray fat old dude barge in, start doing it in the sinks and not even having enough dignity as Dean and me did to go in a stall, start fucking. And I looked. This guy? Creepy old man vibes. Not even interesting and slightly-sexy type of old man, I’m talking gross-“

Charlie clears her throat and says your name while you ignore her and continue to create a picture with descriptions of the man. 

“Y/N!”

“-Huh? What?”

“I think the guy that _coincidentally_ sounds exactly like who you’re talking about is coming over here.” 

You subtly turn your head and there he is, the same man that just came in the bathroom with Dot by the sinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll try to start weekly again. :)


End file.
